


Hermione Granger and The New Perspective

by Dand3l1on



Series: Hermione Granger and the New Perspective [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fremione - Freeform, It'll take a bit, It's Worth It I Promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dand3l1on/pseuds/Dand3l1on
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione's perspective, beginning right before she attends Hogwarts. Join the adventure from a different angle, and enjoy some what if's along the way! </p>
<p>Ch. 1-9: Philosophers Stone<br/>Ch. 10-20: Chamber of Secrets</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N- I only own a little bit of side plot, nothing else. J.K. Rowling is amazing.

Hermione Granger sat quietly at her desk and waited. Waited for the passing of the final hour, on the final day, of her final year in primary school. She could hardly stand the sluggishness of the clock, but not for the same reasons as her classmates. While the other students couldn't wait to be finished with school, Hermione simply couldn't wait to be finished with them. Most of her classmates disliked her, and she generally disliked them right back.

Hermione wasn't your average 11 year old girl. She read and completed her assignments faster than anyone in her level. It left her with the options of being utterly bored while the rest of the class caught up, or simply continuing on past the end of the assigned portion. It was due to this that Hermione found herself looking for additional information on the various subjects they studied. She disliked reading certain things for a second time, finding the repetition completely unnecessary. So to keep her interest perked and mostly to fend off mind-numbing boredom, she sought out additional information from other resources.

However, her reasons for disliking her classmates weren't fueled by a fondness for books, but came from a sense of injustice. Their reasons for disliking her were illogical and seemed to center around her physical appearance. It was widely agreed that the boys who taunted her were miscreants, frequently interrupting class with immature pranks. However, their cruel words left a lingering haze over Hermione. It was as though they cast a spell over the class, sometimes including the teacher, that caused them to avoid her lest they be grouped in with her and an arbitrary stigma.

As summer was upon them, it was hot and stifled in the classroom that day. Hermione found it suffocating, longing to get outside for some fresh air. To combat the discomfort, Hermione put her unruly and frizzy hair in a long plait down her back. As the last hour ticked on, the noise level grew and grew.

Anxious to be rid of the whole lot of them, Hermione opened her history book and skimmed for any last fact or figure she hadn't caught the first time. She heard a quiet sniggering slither it's way around the classroom. Feeling suddenly alert to a large number of eyes looking her way, she reacted a moment too late. She felt a tug on her plait and heard the sound of a pair scissors closing right behind her head. Hermione jerked around to see Marla Anderson holding a clump of Hermione's frizzy brown hair up to her own sleek, blonde hair.

"What do you think, Hermione? Is "woolly mammoth" my style?"

Hermione reached back to feel her plait, finding it loose and very wrong. As she bolted out of the classroom door, she heard the class erupt into cackling and laughter. She barely heard the teacher as he lazily drawled for everyone to quiet down and return to their seats.

Tears streaming down her face, Hermione ran down the hall. The rush of air past her ears drowned out the echo of her shoes on the hard tile floor. Coming to a halt at the door to the girls toilet, Hermione barged in. When she heard the door shut behind her, Hermione released a heavy sob. Her chest tightened, her breaths becoming more and more shallow. She shouldn’t have run, her lungs always objected to running. It took her a few minutes to regain her breath. Making her way over to the mirrors, she centered in front of one and mustered the courage to look. It was awful. Her sprint from the classroom had shaken out the rest of the plait. The left side was untouched, billowing past her shoulders and down her back. But the right side was short. Too short. It stuck out like a pyramid, jutting away from her ear. It wouldn't fit back in a plait or even a simple ponytail. She closed her eyes, more tears plummeting down her face and onto her jumper. Opening her eyes, she saw her miserable reflection. Her skin was blotchy from crying, her eyes were red and swollen, and, oh, her hair. She hid in one of the stalls for the better part of that final hour. Anger welling up inside with nowhere to go, she broke out into fits of tears. Why? Why did they taunt her so much? How had she ever offended them so badly that it always came to something like this? As the anger threatened to burst out of her, she gripped her arms across her chest to keep from punching the stall walls. Closing her eyes again, she plainly wished that it hadn't happened. It didn't happen. It didn't happen. It. Did. Not. Happen. How would Marla like it if it happened to her?! What would Marla do if she had to spend the summer growing out _her_ hair? Sure, it must be nice if your hair lays smooth and shiny, but what if it didn’t? What if Marla had her hair, had Hermione’s hair, to deal with? What if Marla were the “woolly mammoth?”

Deciding to face the inevitable, she exited the stall and made her way to the sinks. She took a deep and stuttering breath, then exhaled the last bit of anger she was clutching. She leaned over one of the sinks. After splashing her face with cold water she dragged a rough brown paper towel across her forehead, eyes, cheeks, nose, and chin. But as she looked up into the mirror above, Hermione gaped in surprise. Reaching her hands up, Hermione ran her fingers through a normal and full mane of hair. Both sides cascaded and puffed out past her shoulders, both sides the same long length. Had it happened? Had she only imagined Marla holding a lock of her hair? The idea that it was another in a long line of cruel pranks made her angry all over again. But instead of more tears threatening to spill over, it was resolve that she found flooding up inside her. She couldn’t stand for it. She would spend her life working for fairness and understanding. She didn't know what that would look like, but she didn't care. She would fight to protect other kids like herself, other misfits, other anomalies.

Hermione tossed the paper towel in the bin and wrenched open the door to the hallway. Marching back to class, she could hear a girl yelling from down the hall. As she drew closer, it was clear the noise was coming from her classroom. She reached the door, looking through the narrow window into the room. The class was in absolute chaos. Deliberating whether or not to go in, Hermione decided she at least needed to pick up her book bag. Hoping to sneak in, she quietly opened the door, releasing a wave of sound into the echoing hallway.

It was as though they had been waiting for her. The class hushed in an instant and all eyes were back on Hermione, but this time it was fear, not laughter, that sat behind their stares.

“YOU!” someone screamed.

Turning to look in the direction of the outburst, Hermione gasped. It was Marla. At least, it was the face of Marla. But it was the hair of, well, it was Hermione’s hair! Even Marla’s eyebrows had turned dark and thick, a harsh contrast to her normally blonde and unnaturally thin ones. Marla bellowed again.

“YOU! You did this to me! I don’t know how you did it, but it was you! You little witch!”

Hermione picked up her bag, set her jaw, and pushed in her desk chair.

The bell rang.


	2. The Forest of Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion between the Granger's.

The sun dipped low over the Forest of Dean. A small tent sat next to a picnic table in a narrow clearing. A thin wisp of smoke drifted high above the camp site. 

Mr. Granger was stoking the fire, while Mrs. Granger stood at the end of the picnic table, chopping vegetables and piling them into foil pouches to be placed on the coals of the fire.

Hermione sat cross-legged on the ground near the fire, hunched over the book in her lap. 

The only sounds were the knife crunching through the crisp vegetables, the thud of new logs being thrown on the fire and the crackling of the logs already burning. 

The wind hushed through the trees. 

Mr. Granger cleared his throat. “Uh, Hermione, your mother and I need to talk to you.” 

The chopping stopped. Hermione withdrew her brain from the dregs of her book and looked up. Her parents faces were uncomfortably solemn. 

“If it’s about what happened the last day of school, I don’t want to talk about it. Marla Anderson is an awful person with a load of splinters in place of a heart. She deserved every bit of what happened and I’m not sorry at all. Also since I never have to go back to that wretched place I don’t see the point in making amends.” 

The fire gave a loud pop and sent an upshoot of sparks.

“Hermione, dear, slow down.” cooed Mrs. Granger. She smiled at her husband and sat down cross-legged on the ground next to Hermione. The foil pouches were rolled tight, and Mr. Granger lowered them into the coals to cook. He sat opposite them on top of an old stump. 

“Hermione,” Mr. Granger stated calmly, “please tell us what happened, from your side.”

Hermione took a deep breath and recalled the story to them. She included some past experiences regarding mean comments about her large front teeth and her love of books. The summary was that none of her classmates seemed to like her and she returned in kind. She had tried to be nice, but had found that had no bearing on how they treated her. She resorted to keeping to herself and trying to ignore their unkind words. When she got to the part of the story involving her unwanted hair cut from Marla, Mr. Granger cut in. 

“Wait, she cut a piece of your hair? Where? It all looks the same to me.”

“Well, she did, and it was awful it wasn’t just a piece it was this whole side, but then in the bathroom it grew back. It was like I wished it and it came true. Then I thought she might have just been doing a prank on me, you know with some fake hair or something. But the really weird part was when I went back to the classroom and she had, well, my hair. My eyebrows too.” 

“Hermione,” began Mrs. Granger, “this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”

“I know! But it’s not my fault, I don’t know how these things happen they just do.” Hermione folded her arms across her chest. 

The fire popped again.

“Hermione, please, we’re on your side. We know Marla isn’t very nice, her parents weren’t ever very nice to your father and I at school functions. We just want to know what we can do to help you.” 

“I don’t need help, there’s nothing wrong with me. All I want is to be around people I actually get along with, people who I like and they like me back.” Hermione heaved a sigh. “Oh, and a great big library.”


	3. A Short Visit from a Short Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hogwarts Acceptance Letter, as delivered by Professor Flitwick.

It was late afternoon. The sun poured into Hermione's bedroom, illuminating the particles of dust that hung over her head. Hermione was lying on her bed, reading, her head propped up on a stuffed toy cat. She vaguely heard the doorbell ringing downstairs and it almost registered that there was a new voice amongst her parents voices.

Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Granger lightly knocked on the door to Hermione's room.

“Hermione, dear,” Mrs. Granger said softly.

“Mm.” Hermione didn't look up from her book.

“Would you join your father and I downstairs for some tea?”

“May I have five more minutes?”

Mrs. Granger smiled. “Hermione, please look up. Hullo there, dear, welcome back.”

Hermione looked up but wasn't amused.

“Hermione,” Mrs. Granger continued, “there's a gentleman downstairs who would like to speak with you. Now, let's not be rude, here is your bookmark, let's go downstairs and have a chat, shall we?”

Hermione was put off and confused by her mother's overly delicate demeanor. None-the-less, she put her book down and followed her mother out.

At the bottom of the stairs, Hermione put on her most polite smile. She and her mother  joined her father and an apparently very short man wearing odd robes in the lounge.

“Hermione,” said Mr.Granger, “This is Professor Filius Flitwick. Professor Flitwick, our daughter, Hermione Granger.”

Professor Flitwick stretched out his hand. Hermione paused. She'd only shaken hands with tall adults. This man was possibly shorter than her, though she correctly assumed it would be quite rude to stand back to back balancing a book on both their heads to compare. This image brought a smile to her face, and brought her back to reality. She took his hand.

“Uh, hello, Professor Flitwick. I'm Hermione.”

“Her-mi-o-ne.” Professor Flitwick shook her hand tightly, and over enunciated her name as though he'd known about her for a while and had been looking forward to this meeting. “Why don't you have a seat? We have a few things to discuss.”

The three Granger's sat on the couch, Hermione sandwiched in the middle, while Professor Flitwick sat across from them on a perfectly sized small chair Hermione had never seen before. There was a palpable tension in the room. Who on earth was this man?

“First, I'm going to ask you a few questions.” said Professor Flitwick. “Have you ever encountered something you couldn't explain?”

Hermione thought, and was only slightly tempted to take offense to this. She was, after all, first in her class.

“Not, really, I suppose I either ask for more information or go look it up on my own.”

Professor Flitwick chuckled. “Not quite what I mean dear. I'm not talking about school work or other learned information. I'm speaking more of something that defies logic, or at least logic as you understand it.”

“No… but I…” Hermione didn't know what to say. Professor Flitwick smiled and went on.

“It's alright dear, no matter. Next question then, have you ever made something happen, good or bad, without meaning to or understanding quite how it happened?”

Hermione felt her parents look both at her and at each other. She grew angry and stood up. They didn't believe her. They were trying to “fix" her.

“It's not my fault! I didn't do _anything_ to Marla! In fact, why don't we look at the record of what she's done to me over the years-”

“Hermione Jean Granger, you sit down right now and apologize! I'm so sorry, Professor!” Mrs. Granger grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her to sit back down on the couch.

“Quite alright, I dare say we teachers are used to this. We get quite a range of reactions, actually.”

Hermione was still angry. “Reactions about what, what's going on!?”

“Ms. Granger, I'm not an ordinary professor, as you've most likely guessed. I teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is my duty and pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted into our school for the coming school year, and also to deliver a list of required items you shall bring.”

Too stunned to speak, Hermione stared at the small man as he continued.

“When a child is born into the magical community, there is an enchanted pen that writes their name in a book. We at Hogwarts use that list of names to ensure that every magical child is given an acceptance letter to our fine establishment.”

“So you're saying,” Hermione's words began to trickle back to her.

“You are, in fact, a witch.” Finished Professor Flitwick, smiling in such a warm way that Hermione was certain those words hadn't been said with that facial expression ever before.

 

“A what?”

 

“A witch.”

 

Hermione sank back against the couch, slouching in defeat and confusion.

Her pulse rang in her ears.

A witch? A witch?! Hermione began to file back through memories of strange occurrences. Some things she'd chalked up to luck, such as dropping a tea cup and saucer only to have neither break against the floor, but simply bounce and roll under the arm chair.

Other things though, other more recent things, were unavoidable. It made everything fit. Of course! She _had_ wished her hair back, and she _had_ wished Marla could understand…

Hermione's mother turned and looked at her. “It does seem to fit, dear.”

Her father turned towards her as well. “We love you and support you, no matter what.”

Hermione, growing uncomfortable scrunched up on the couch, stood up and began to pace.

“So this school, what exactly will I learn there?”

“The curriculum is designed to equip and prepare you for life and work in the magical world. You will learn an assortment of fields ranging from potions and herbology to charms, which is the class I teach, and even divination.”

“Divination?”

“Uh, yes, I believe the students study star charts and Crystal balls in order to look into the future.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Hermione stopped pacing and looked at the small Professor.

 

“That sounds like a load of-”

“HERMIONE.” Mr. Granger warned.

“Sorry. Right.” She began to pace again. “So I'll study all manner of magical things, around other magical kids, and read magical books?”

“Oh I suppose a few of them are enchanted, but most of them are just a bit dusty.”

“And where will I sleep?”

“Ah, a very important question, Ms. Granger. Hogwarts students are separated into four houses, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. This house division started centuries ago, and the sorting is based on the unique qualities a student possesses. So, it depends on which house you join, but to answer your question simply, you will be sleeping in a dormitory.”

Hermione began to reel a bit. It was all so much at once, yet, it was wonderfully exciting. She had always felt there was something that made her different. Something beyond her control. Here were answers! Finally! Explanations to a lifetime, albeit a short one, of not fitting in with the world around her.

She began to question Professor Flitwick about the particulars that they would be studying. Then the two of them compared notes on accidental magic. Professor Flitwick had, as a child, managed to bring all of his family's furniture to life, causing it to walk out from underneath you just as you were about to sit down. This made the whole family laugh, and greatly eased the tension in the room.

Soon, Hermione was not only excited to go, but didn't want to wait until September to begin this new adventure. She could picture herself with a group of girls just like her. She imagined feeling ok around other people instead of on edge. She saw herself being challenged and learning new and wonderful things.

Professor Flitwick stood up, vanished the perfectly sized small chair, and handed Mr. Granger a parchment envelope. He began shaking their hands in turn.

“Well I think that's about it. Everything is in here. If you have any further questions, you can contact myself or any of the other teachers by owl.”

The Granger's stared at him blankly. And with a small pop, he was gone.

  
  
  
  
  



	4. The Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the Hogwarts Express! Find out why Neville lost his toad. Hermione meets more than one Weasley.

The Grangers arrived at King’s Cross Station at 10:30 am on 1 September 1991. Hermione had been bustling her parents along all morning. They struggled to keep up with her as she lead the way to platforms 9 and 10. Remembering what Professor Flitwick had told her about the barrier, she marched toward the dividing barrier between the platforms with all intention and was pleased to find herself on Platform 9 and ¾. Her parents followed up behind her. Her dad stared at the bright red engine and said aloud, “The Hogwarts Express. Here we are, Hermione.” 

She marveled at the train, knowing that adventure stretched out on the tracks ahead. 

Mr. Granger helped Hermione climb up into one of the cars and secure her luggage in a compartment in the middle of the train. “Thanks, Dad.” 

The two went back to the platform, where Mrs. Granger stood patiently. 

“All set, sweetheart?”

“All set, Mum.” 

They stood awkwardly for a second. Hermione had the impulse to ramble on about the history of the Hogwarts Express, but stopped herself. She saw tears welling up in her mother's eyes. Her father cleared his throat and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. 

“Send lots of post. We want to hear all about it.” he said, still squeezing her so tight, she felt the need to double her efforts to make sure she didn’t hurt his feelings. 

“Don’t get too caught up in all the studying, don’t forget to have a little fun.” , said Mrs. Granger, joining the hug. 

Deciding now was not the opportune time to contest the amount of studying she would be expected to do, she simply smiled and nodded. Her mother and father gave her one last extra tight squeeze together, and released Hermione. She gave them both quick pecks on the cheek before spinning on her heels and running back toward the train. Standing on the first step into the middle car, she turned around and waved at them. They waved back, her mother blew her a kiss, and they exited the platform. 

Still racing with the sensation that she might miss something, she headed for the compartment where she had left her trunk. It was oddly quiet, and an uncomfortable realization hit Hermione. She was on her own. Had she made sure her parents knew she loved them? Had she tidied her room before leaving the house? Had she packed enough and not too much? She stared out the window at the station wall. More questions flooded her mind. Would she find other kids she got on with? Or would it be just like Primary? Did she have what it takes to hack it in the magical world? She decided these were all useless questions to be asking now as opposed to say, yesterday. She peered out the window at the large clock on the wall of the station. 10:45. Other kids had passed by her compartment, and the crowd on the platform was growing. Taking advantage of being alone, she quickly changed into her new school robes. She knew she’d be sleeping in a dormitory soon, but Hermione still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of having to dress and undress around a bunch of other girls. Just as she was stowing her clothes in her trunk, the door to the compartment opened. A tall girl with brown hair was wrestling her trunk through the doorway. 

“Mind if I join you?” she asked.  
“No, not at all!” exclaimed Hermione. “I’m Hermione Granger. This is my first year. What’s your name? What year are you?” 

“I’m Katie, Bell. I’m in my second year.” 

“I’m very excited to be going to Hogwarts, they say it’s an exceptional school. Would you agree? Do you like it there? What house are you in? Oh I bet it’s just wonderful, I’ve been reading Hogwarts a history-”

But Hermione was cut off as the door opened again and a boy with dreadlocks yanked his trunk around the door frame and shoved it with his foot under the bench across from Hermione. 

“Hey Lee!” said Katie.

“Hey! Good holidays?” said the boy with dreadlocks, whom Hermione gathered was named Lee.

“Yeah. Nothing fancy. You?” asked Katie.

 

“I managed to stay out of trouble for most of it.” replied Lee. 

Hermione looked around and opened her mouth to ask if either had travelled over their summer holidays, when Katie spoke. 

“Oh, uh, Lee, Her… what was it?”

“Hermione Granger. It’s my first year at Hogwarts and I’m ever so thrilled. I was-“

“Hullo Hermione Granger. I’m Lee Jordan.” 

Katie and Lee jumped into a conversation about the wizard sport, Quidditch. While in Diagon Alley, Hermione had seen a book on the subject in Flourish and Blotts. Though Hermione had read a few passages in “Quidditch through the ages,” she couldn’t find herself caring much for it and had put it back on the shelf. She listened in as they talked about the various matches they saw during the holidays. The train began to pull away from the station. A rush of excitement swirled through Hermione. Turning back to her new acquaintances, she found they were still discussing Quidditch. Disliking the feeling of being totally lost, she decided to see if she could finish reading “Hogwarts: A History” before they arrived at their destination.

Hermione was reading a passage about Rowena Ravenclaw, founder of one of the Hogwarts Houses. Comparing Ravenclaw to Gryffindor, Hermione wondered which she would prefer. While she found the pursuit of knowledge incredibly important, she also believed that books were a way to learn what mistakes have been made in the past and how to avoid repeating them in the future. As she deliberated, she vaguely noticed the noise in the compartment increase. She tried to refocus on the chapter she had opened to, but in her contemplation over the Hogwarts houses, her hand had slacked and she had lost her place. Looking around the compartment she noticed it had filled up. There were now three additional boys. Two redheaded boys talking animatedly with Lee and Katie, and a round faced boy sitting across from her. He holding a toad and squeezing it so tight around the middle, she thought the poor toad might explode. Whoever he was, he looked absolutely terrified. It pained Hermione to see someone so upset, remembering days when she cried in objection on the way to school and cried in defeat on the way home. 

Are you alright?" Hermione asked the round faced boy.

"Y-y-yes." He quietly stammered.

Sensing this was not the truth, she proceeded.

"I'm Hermione Granger. I only just found out this summer about Hogwarts and I'm really very excited to go. Are you? What's your name? Is that your pet toad? I haven't got a pet myself, but I love sea otters. Did you know they use rocks as tools to open clam shells?" inquired Hermione.

The round faced boy looked up at her with tears brimming. He seemed slightly confused, and Hermione knew she had seen that look before with her old classmates. But her concern faded as he managed to smile at her. He sniffed, wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve, and held out his hand.

"I'm Neville. This is Trevor."

Hermione reached out her hand, but paused halfway. She thought for a second, grabbed one of Trevor the toad’s bumpy little feet and “shook hands” with him instead. 

“It’s very lovely to meet you, Trevor.” 

The two giggled. Neville seemed to brighten up. 

“I- I’ve never been very good with magic. I’m really nervous about school.”

“I’m nervous too, I’ve been reading non-stop since I found out about being a witch. It really surprised all of us, but everything seemed to fit and I’m really excited to learn more. Do you know what house you think you’d like to be in?”

“I was thinking Huff-”

Just then, Katie Bell shrieked, the cry filling the compartment. Hermione and Neville looked round to see Lee holding out a giant Tarantula.

"You keep that nasty thing away from me!" Katie hollered.

She ran from the car, the three older boys erupting with laughter. 

“That wasn't very nice!” admonished Hermione as she stood up and faced them.

“Oh come on now, we're just having a bit of fun.” Replied one of the twins. “Want a look?”

“I'm not afraid of a dirty great spider, and it's not really fun when it's at someone else's expense.” Hermione stated firmly. The twin that had spoken turned to his brother. 

“This one sounds like Percy,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I don't know who Percy is, but I'm Hermione Granger.” 

“I'm Fred, this is George, that’s Lee.”

“Look, we didn't mean anything by it. It's just for laughs.” said George.

“He won’t hurt anyone. Much.” said Lee. The three boys broke into laughter again.

Fred, George, and Lee turned their conversation back to Quidditch. As Lee put the tarantula back in it’s box, Hermione made a note to herself that it was probably best to avoid those particular boys.

A bit flustered, Hermione sat back down and turned to Neville. He was outright crying now.

"Neville? Are you really ok?"

"N-no." He said thickly. Tears streamed down his cheeks. "I-I c-covered my ears with my h-hu-hands when sh-she screamed. It m-must have startled T-t-trevor, b-because he's huh- huh-hopped away!" He cried.

Hermione jumped up, "Oh dear, come on then, let's look for him shall we? I'm sure he's in here somewhere."

Neville nodded, wiped his face with his already soggy sleeve, and stood up too.  
They looked around the car, shuffling trunks and jackets this way and that. The noise was escalating as more kids came to look at the tarantula. She turned to Neville and said,

"Maybe Trevor went out through the open car door. It's getting quite loud in here. Maybe he went to find a quiet spot to hide. Why don't we ask around in the other compartments?"

Neville nodded, still wiping his face, and followed her out.

“Let's each take a compartment.” Hermione pointed Neville towards the closest one and she took the next. Then they both skipped a door and checked the next set of compartments. The two did this for every compartment in their car and the next one up. Hermione tried to take note of faces. She thought to herself, “These are the people like me, these are the people I'll get along with.” 

Trevor the toad was nowhere to be found. The longer they searched, the more upset and unintelligible Neville became. Hermione heard the people in the compartment he was investigating saying a lot of “what's” and “come again's.” She decided it was best to stick together and maybe recover some of Neville's tracks. 

She opened a compartment door to find two boys. 

“Has anyone seen a toad, Neville's lost one.”

“We've already told him we haven't seen it.” said the boy with dirt on his face. He was holding his wand out over a very ugly rat, as though about to cast a spell. Anxious to see what other kids could do, Hermione asked, 

“Oh are you doing magic? Let's see it then.”

The boy with dirt on his face was quite unsuccessful. Hermione told him she didn't think he'd said a real spell, and if it was real it certainly wasn't very good. She had been reading up on spells since her parents had taken her to Diagon Alley to get her school things. She couldn't remember everything she said to the two boys, and after a long rant she came around to

“I'm Hermione Granger by the way, who are you?”

“I'm Ron Weasley.” 

“I'm Harry Potter.”


	5. Sorting things out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is sorted and does some sorting of her own. 
> 
> (Uh, fyi, Fred is in this chapter. Just sayin'.)

Hermione sat on the stool in front of the entire company of Hogwarts. The dusty sorting hat hung low on her brow. Were it not for her bushy hair, it would have covered her eyes entirely.

“Hm, lots of books I see. Perhaps a Ravenclaw.”

She jumped a little at the sound of the sorting hat’s voice in her ear. Hermione thought about the resolution she’d made before the summer. She thought in response,

“Yes, well, the information is only useful if someone actually uses it. I’d really much rather be in Gryffindor.”

“Are you sure? You would do quite well in Ravenclaw, Rowena herself would be proud of your thirst for knowledge.”

“Yes I’ve thought long and hard about it and I’d like to be placed in Gryffindor please.”

“Gryffindor!” the hat shouted.

The Gryffindor table cheered and applauded as Hermione stepped down from the stool and placed the hat on the seat. As she scuttled over to the table, she noticed a few now familiar faces. Glancing around, she noticed the three boys who’d been playing with the tarantula on the train. She took a seat, and let out a small sigh of exasperation. Maybe Ravenclaw would have been better, but what was done was done.

The sorting went on. The second to last boy sat on the stool, and she remembered him too from the train. He still had dirt on his face. As the hat cried out another “Gryffindor!”, Hermione groaned.

\-----

After their first day of lessons had ended and she’d eaten a quick dinner, Hermione crawled through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. She took a seat at a table near the fireplace, spread out her books, and began to read. The room began to fill up as others finished dinner. Hermione was reading ahead in her Charms textbook. Her hope was that it wouldn’t be obvious to the other students in class that she hadn’t grown up around magic. She wanted to fit in. She loved all of the new things she was learning. She wanted to absorb as much of it as possible. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself in front of everyone, like poor Neville did at the sorting ceremony. As she read about the first few charms they would be learning, she found it hard to imagine the wand movements from the descriptions in the book. Not knowing many people, she looked around the common room to see if there was anyone she thought could be of help. She saw Percy, the Prefect that had lead them to Gryffindor tower their first night at Hogwarts.

Hermione walked over to where Percy was sitting, reading a large book. His horn-rimmed glasses sat low on his nose, and as she approached he looked at her over the top of them.  
“Yes, how can I help you?” Percy sighed.

“Hello, yes, I was wondering if someone could help me with my charms homework? I’m having trouble with the wand movements.”

Percy didn’t look very interested, and he didn’t look very helpful. She hoped he would point her to someone else. He looked around the room, and she sighed in relief. Anyone else ought to be more helpful than this.

“Uh, George, or Fred, could you help this first year with something?” Percy lilted.

Except for those particular anyone's.

“Why can’t you?” hollered Fred.

“Because I’ve got O.W.L’s to be studying for,” Percy proclaimed in an artificially deep voice. Hermione noticed a distinct groan and an over-exaggerated eye roll from Fred, and couldn’t help feeling about the same.

“Right then, what’s your problem?” Fred stood up and walked with Hermione over to her pile of books.

“Oh it’s nothing terrible, just a bit of Char-”

“Grunting grindylows, you know it’s just the first week right? Have you even been to Charms yet?”

“Uh, no. But I don’t want to look foolish in front of the other kids. I only just found out about being a witch this summer and there’s so much to learn and-”

“Yeah yeah, I heard you on the train.” Fred interrupted.

Hermione paused, slightly hurt and annoyed about being interrupted.

Fred raised his eyebrows. “Well, what’s your question?”

“Oh, right, well I’m looking at the levitation charm. I’ve got the pronunciation down, but I can’t understand the wand movements from the description in the book.”

“Oh! That’s easy. The book makes it sound hard, I’ll give you that. Alright, you got your wand out, yeah, wait, lemme…” Fred trailed off. He scanned around for something, picked up a blank piece of parchment, and began folding it this way and that. Hermione had tried her hand at paper airplanes before, but they never did fly right. Once, in primary school, a boy had thrown one at her, and it stuck in her bushy hair without Hermione noticing it for the better part of a lesson. Her heart began to sink. Would they have to fold an decent paper airplane in class? She couldn’t imagine a professor actually asking the students to make a load of paper airplanes fly around the room, weaving around the desks. Just when Hermione was beginning to imagine herself with a dozen paper airplanes jammed in her hair and all the other students laughing, Fred finished folding. As he set the last crease, Hermione noticed a word scribbled on the back of his left hand. She struggled to read the smudged ink.

“What’s ‘A-lo-ho-mora?’” Hermione pointed to Fred’s hand.

“What? Oh, uh, no matter, just something I didn’t want to forget.” Hermione furrowed her eyebrows suspiciously. Fred ignored this and continued on.

“Ok, wand up, and it’s a swish and flick. Professor Flitwick will say it about a million times, but it looks like this. Wingardium Leviosa!”

Fred swished his wand, then flicked it towards the paper airplane that he’d set on the table in front of them. The paper airplane gracefully floated up a foot off the table, hovering. Fred lifted his wand, and the paper airplane nosed back down to the table, glided across and fell off the other side.

“Ok, your turn.” he said. He walked around to the other side of the table, picked up the slightly crumpled paper airplane, re-creased the nose folds, and set it in front of Hermione. She took a breath.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Swish, flick.

She couldn’t believe it. The paper airplane floated, though a little less gracefully, a few inches off the table. Excitement flooded through Hermione. She turned her whole body to look at Fred, and forgot that she was still pointing her wand in front of her. The paper airplane zoomed towards him, following the direction of her wand, and crumpled against his stomach.

“Oy, watch it.” He laughed.

“Sorry! I just got really excited. I haven’t done any proper charms before. I've been practicing saying the spells, but obviously I couldn’t really practice the spells with the restriction on underage magic. Please don’t tell the other first years. Or anyone for that matter.”

“Don’t worry, secret’s safe with me. Good job, uh, Hermione was it? You’ll be fine. Flitwick’s classes are easy. It’s McGonagall you have to watch out for.”

“Thanks. It’s getting a bit loud in here, I think I’ll go to the library to finish up. Fred, right?”

“Nah I’m George. But don’t worry, we get mixed up all the time.”

“No, your Fred. I remember you from the train too.”

“Lucky guess. Well, see you round then.”

Fred returned to the other side of the Common room where George and Lee were taking turns making giant bubbles float out of their ears. Hermione loaded up her bag and set out for the library. As she crawled through the portrait hole, Hermione wondered if Fred, and maybe George and Lee too, were more good than bad after all. As she walked through the castle, she thought to herself that maybe she could give people a bit of slack. Maybe people had more good in them than she gave them credit for. But the moment she opened the door to the library, all thought fell out of Hermione’s head and plummeted to the floor.

The Hogwarts Library was incredible. Hermione felt utterly excited and completely overwhelmed by the thousands of books on dark wooden shelves. The scent of dust, old parchment, and burning candles drifted past. It smelled like knowledge. She wandered around aimlessly, weaving up this aisle and down that section, almost losing her sense of direction. The dark red carpet muffled her footsteps. She passed low shelves, high shelves, and even higher shelves that you needed a ladder to reach. She padded by a section of old maps that were scrolled up and stored on end in deep bins. She saw a shelf of books that were impossibly thick and wondered how anyone could carry one them. There was a bust of Merlin on a pedestal. The walls had great paintings of mythical creatures that splashed, cantered, and flew around between frames. There was a section for anything and everything you could dream of, and some things you couldn’t. The library seemed alive. Hermione was fairly certain that one of the books had even sneezed as she passed it.

Hermione settled on a small room created by a gap in the labyrinth of bookshelves. They were the really extra tall kind that required a ladder to reach most of the books. It was closed in on all sides except for the for the gap between shelves where she'd entered. A small, grimey chandelier hung in the center of the room. There were a few large brown floor cushions in one corner and a table with four chairs in the other. Hermione unpacked her bag and sat down cross-legged on one of the floor cushions to finish studying.

Hermione found the paper airplane inside her bag and realized she must have picked it up absent-mindedly, stuffing it in with her books, ink, quill, and wand. She straightened the creases the way Fred had done, set it on the floor, and picked up her wand. She heard a woman in the distance clearing her throat, presumably the librarian, Madame Pinze. In a very hushed voice, she whispered “Wingardium Leviosa.” Swish, flick.

Once again, the paper airplane rose off the table, and once again she felt a rush spread through her chest and into her arms. She, Hermione Granger, was doing this! She stood up, directed her wand around the small space and watched, amazed, as she zipped the plane in high circles, low dives, and dizzying loops. If only her old classmates from Primary could see her now. She would beat all the boys in a contest of “best flyer.” Hermione continued to swish the airplane around the small room, until she heard a woman clear her throat much, much closer. Hermione jumped as she saw she was no longer alone, and it was in fact Madame Pinze standing in the entry to the small room. Hermione heard the paper airplane crash into the bookshelf behind her and fall to the floor.

“I’m s-so sorry, I- I got carried away.” Hermione stammered. She rushed over to where the paper airplane had fallen, picked it up, and crammed it into the bottom of her book bag.

Madame Pinze didn’t smile. But she didn’t exactly frown either. Hermione’s heart raced as thoughts of being expelled and riding the train back to King’s Cross Station swirled through her head and she felt the small room getting even smaller. Madame Pinze raised an eyebrow, and left.

As the panic drained out of Hermione’s ears and throat, she relaxed and realized she wasn’t being sent home, or even punished. But the mercy Madame Pinze had cast her way did not go unnoticed. Hermione promised herself she would never inch that close to being in trouble ever again.

Speaking of trouble, what was that word Fred had written on his left hand. Alohaloha? No. Alohomora? That seemed about right. Hermione knew her curiosity was unwarranted. But if Fred had just told her, it wouldn’t be a nagging bird repeatedly chirping at the back of her mind. Hermione gathered her books and wand into her bag. After wandering a bit, getting lost, and then getting un-lost, Hermione finally found the Librarian’s desk. Madame Pinze sat behind it, flanked by towers of books.

“How can I help you?” Madame Pinze grizzled.

“I want to look up a word, I’m not sure if it’s a spell, a curse, or a charm. Where should I start?”

“The catalogue is over there.” Madame Pinze pointed without looking up.

“Thanks.”

Hermione bounded over to a tall and broad case of small drawers, and scanned the upper right hand section for the ‘A’s.’ A-Accio. Accio-Aparecium. Aparecium-Avis. Pulling over a stool and stepping up to be eye level, she opened the second drawer. Accio, flip, flip flip, Aguamenti, flip flip, flip, flip, Anteoculatia, flip back, flip back, Alohomora. Hermione tried to pull the card out of the drawer and found it to be stuck. She heard Madame Pinze clear her throat again, and almost lost her balance on the stool as she turned to look over her shoulder at the Librarian’s desk. Madame Pinze wasn’t looking at Hermione, or even in her direction, but none-the-less Hermione found her unnerving. Hermione turned back to the card. It read:

Alohomora: the unlocking charm. Used to unlock doors or reverse a locking charm.  
Found in: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3  
By Miranda Goshawk  
Location: Course Manuals, Section 3

“Of course,” sighed Hermione. “ I might’ve known it would be something like that.”  
She shut the drawer, hopped off the stool, and headed back to Gryffindor tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm setting it up for a slow burn, folks. I hope you're enjoying reading so far! I'm having a lot of fun with it. I've had a lot of this written up before getting my invite and posting it here. I've just been editing things a bit the last few days, so that's why chapters have trickled in. I do however have to return to being a normal human and not just a brain, barfing words at the interwebs. So, I'm going to go shower and make dinner. I may also have to go grocery shopping.... *looks in bare fridge* How old are these olives...?


	6. Flying and fumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione isn't fitting in as well as she thought.

Hermione was finding herself very lonely. She was sending owls home everyday, not so much to hear back, but mostly to talk to someone. She had stopped speaking to Harry and Ron. Harry had a knack for getting into trouble, and Ron did what Harry did. Also, they didn't seem to like her much, they never listened to her, and Ron could be especially rude. She didn't get along very easily with the girls in her dormitory, either. It wasn't that they were mean to her, they just had different interests. Sometimes she would walk in to find them gossiping, or giggling while they read from Gilderoy Lockheart’s “magical me,” other times she would come back from the library to find them casting color charms on their fingernails and curling spells on their hair. Hermione had no interest in more curls, she had enough of her own thank you very much. As far as gossip went, she preferred to keep herself out of it.

The common room was always loud, but at least there were other people trying to study there. Hermione liked to nestle herself in at a table, spreading her books out around her.

The loudest people in the common room were usually Lee, George and Fred. Since Fred had taken the time to help her with her charms homework, Hermione had tried to think of the three boys as not all bad. Sometimes this was more believable than others, but Hermione still liked watching them. Their pranks certainly were more interesting than beauty charms. Occasionally she even enjoyed the disruption, but of course would never fess up to it. 

\----------

While all the other Gryffindors looked forward to flying practice, Hermione had little interest. It was the one thing in the world of magic that she couldn’t really wrap her head around. It wasn't for a lack of trying. She had checked out “Quidditch Through the Ages” from the library, she listened carefully to Madame Hooch's instructions, but it did her little good. She could get herself up high enough her feet weren't dragging, and she could make slow, wide turns. But it just didn't seem to be her thing. She also decided, after watching Neville take a nasty spill, she enjoyed her bones un-broken. When Madame Hooch relegated the class to running laps, Hermione happily put her broom back in the supply cart. She hated running, but she hated heights more. 

Or did she? By the end of class, Hermione felt she might put up with a little terror if it included breathing comfortably. Her chest was tightening with each lap around the field. Her lungs ached. Her throat was dry and she felt so thirsty. She had half a mind to run down to the lake and take her chances with the giant squid. By the end of class, she was the only one still running. Madame Hooch blew her whistle and waved Hermione over. Hermione scuttled over and flopped onto the grass, sweaty and struggling to breathe.

Madame Hooch spoke but didn't look up from her clipboard. “Everyone else has either completed their laps, or skipped out claiming they have. I appreciate your diligence, but you probably want time to change before your next class. You are dismissed.”

Hermione was breathing so hard, she couldn’t make out a thank you. Instead, she was thrown into a loud coughing fit. 

“Ah, I think Madame Pomfrey has a potion for this. Let’s get you up to the hospital wing, shall we?”

Hermione stood, still coughing, and walked back towards the castle with Madame Hooch.  
Due to the fact that they had to climb a number of stairs to get to the hospital wing, Hermione was still wheezing when they got there. 

“My dear girl!” exclaimed Madame Pomfrey. “Madame Hooch, you must stop running the children ragged!”

Madame Hooch had apparently heard this speech before. She said a terse thank you to Madame Pomfrey and left, muttering under her breath about first years. Madame Pomfrey gave Hermione a quick examination, then went to her office and returned with a small vile of grey liquid. 

“Drink this Fumiserum, and then have a lie down on one of the beds for a while. There’s one over there by Mr. Longbottom.” Hermione drank the grey liquid, which tasted like petrol and burned all the way down. The burning spread until her whole torso was on fire. She managed her way over to the bed next to Neville’s and flopped down. 

“Hi Hermione.”

“Hi *cough* Nevi-.” The words were still scratchy in her throat and put her into another coughing fit. Hermione buried her face in the crook of her arm. Madame Pomfrey bustled over and patted Hermione on the back. 

“That’s it dear, all part of the process.”

The burning lessened up with each cough. When she finally caught her breath, Hermione saw a greyish dust covering the sleeve of her jumper. Alarmed, she looked up at Madame Pomfrey who smiled and asked, “How are you feeling now?”

“Uh, better, actually, thank you.” 

“Good, now drink this glass of water and lie back for a few minutes while the potion runs it’s course. Later today you might cough up orange smoke, that’s nothing to worry about. But if you start coughing up sparks come and find me, we don’t want your hair to catch on fire.” Madame Pomfrey bustled away again. 

Hermione took a large drink of water and turned to Neville. She pulled her hair back and said, “Well, that’s certainly encouraging.” 

Neville smiled at her, but there were dried tears on his cheeks. 

“How’s your wrist then?” she asked. 

“It’s fine I suppose, feels better but not quite right yet.” 

“I suppose it hurt pretty bad when you fell. We ran laps after you left, so you lucked out there. But, I’m sorry you missed out on flying.” 

“It’s ok, I’ve been having a lot of nightmares about flying since mid summer. I have a lot of nightmares anyway. But lately they’ve all just been about me falling off a broom, falling off the roof, anything really. Just a bunch of falling.”

“That sounds terrible. Have you talked to Professor McGonagall about it yet? She’s our head of house, she ought to know how we can help you. You can’t expect to do very well in school if you’re not sleeping properly. Sleep is very important to brain function. I read a book this summer all about sleep and sleep disorders. One man claimed he hadn’t slept for 20 years, but I don’t believe it.” 

Neville stared at her with half a smile stuck on his face.

“Ms. Granger, you’re free to go.” 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later than, Neville. Rest up.” She slid off the hospital bed and walked towards the exit.

“See you ‘round Hermione.” 

 

\-----

“Cool!” hollered Lee. 

“Do it again!” said Fred and George.

Hermione was sitting near the common room fireplace. At first she’d felt a little tickle, but before long, great plumes of orange smoke bellowed out of her mouth with each new cough. Hermione felt like she must look like a dragon, and tried to hide behind her transfiguration book.

“Don’t do that!” cried Fred. “If you start sparking and burn those pages, McGonagall might give you one of the used textbooks, and who knows what kind of mayhem you’ll find in there.”

“Good point.” She closed her book. “How did you know about the sparks?” coughed Hermione.

He walked over and sat on the couch next to her. “Oh, I had to take Fumiserum once too. I was born first, but I had ruddy lungs. It was when we started school, I think I was about 6 years old- Oy! George! When did I set the kitchen rug on fire?” 

“Which time?” 

“Right. Nevermind. Point is, be careful. I recommend you hang out here and if you start sparking, aim for the fireplace. Or Ron.”


	7. A Part, or Apart?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione faces some tough reality. Oh yeah, and a mountain troll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to stick close to canon, so some of the conversation is quoted straight from Rowling's writing. However, some parts of conversation are shortened and summarized to help keep things moving.  
> \----

“It’s Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the ‘gar’ nice and long.” Hermione couldn’t believe she had gotten stuck with Ron as a partner in Charms class. 

“You do it then if you’re so clever,” Ron retorted.

Hermione was going to enjoy this. She wanted to revel in this feeling. Here was a boy who had been raised in a magical family, and she was easily outdoing him. It felt like success, like she could sigh a bit of relief. She had passed some form of her own test for fitting into the magical world. Not only could she do it, she knew she could do it, and she was going to do it better. True, she had a little help from Fred, but it wasn’t her fault Ron hadn’t sought out the same help. Fred was, after all, his brother. So with a little smile on her face, she took her wand, rolled up her sleeves. 

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Swish, flick.

The feather on the desk floated gracefully up, up, higher towards the ceiling. Professor Flitwick squeaked, “Oh well done! Everyone see here, Miss Granger’s done it!” 

Hermione felt a voice inside say, with a good dose of pride, “That’s right, I have.”

But her success only made Ron more sour. He wouldn’t listen to her advice when she tried to help him, and was full of eye rolls and scoffs. Eventually, he just stopped responding to her. When class was dismissed, Ron jumped out of his seat and joined up with Harry in the corridor. Hermione wasn’t far behind them when she heard Ron say, 

“It’s no wonder no one can stand her, she’s a nightmare, honestly.” 

Heat pricked her face, something heavy sank onto her chest, and her eyes stung with angry tears. She rushed past the boys, knocking into Harry, and ran off for the nearest girls toilet. 

Tears streamed down her face as she slammed the door, dropped her bag, and ducked into a stall. It felt like a re-run of a television show you didn’t want to watch. She had hated when this happened at her old school, and she hated it even more now. It was the most embarrassing thing to have to run to a bathroom to hide your tears. Everyone knew what was going on. And it made it worse when another girl came in to actually use the bathroom. People whispered and talked and it made her loneliness even worse. A whole new place, ruined. “No one can stand her.” Ron’s words echoed around her brain, slamming into the sides of her skull. It felt awful. She knew she was having a hard time, she didn’t need anyone else mentioning it. 

She missed her parents so much. The thought of them sent a wave of new tears and sobs ripping through her. She thought of their most recent camping trip. It hadn’t been the best trip they took together, but they had hiked and fished and she’d felt happy. Now she was stuck here, and “no one can stand her.” The words just kept resurfacing, like a lone noodle in a pot of boiling water. Suddenly, her sobs were interrupted by the door opening, footsteps, and then a voice, 

“Hello? Is that you Myrtle?”

Hermione sniffed and scowled. “I don’t know who Myrtle is, but it’s certainly not me.” 

“Oh no, I didn’t mean to- I just- Moaning Myrtle is one of the ghosts and she hangs out in bathrooms sometimes. She cries a lot, so she got the name… I wasn’t- Are you ok? Who’s in there?” the voice asked. 

“It’s Hermione. I’ll be fine. I just-” She didn’t know what to say.

“Oh. It’s Parvati. Do you want to talk?”

Parvati and Lavender were also Gryffindor first-years. They seemed nice enough, but had different interests, so Hermione hadn’t really gotten to know them. She thought about talking, but didn’t want to make matters worse by telling someone how she felt. She also didn’t want people talking to her like something was wrong, babying her, making that awful face that was supposed to convey sympathy but usually came across as condescension. 

“Thanks, but, I think I’ll just stay in here a while longer. Just homesick,” she lied. 

“Well, um, ok. I guess I’ll… see you…” Parvati’s words drifted off. Hermione could hear a kind of hurt in Parvati’s voice. She was trying, you know, she didn’t have to say anything to you. Hermione mustered herself and was about to call out to Parvati, but she was too late, and the bathroom door slammed shut. 

The quiet of the bathroom closed in around Hermione, pressing loneliness onto her. Great sobs broke free and shook her shoulders. She didn’t think she’d be leaving the bathroom anytime soon.

\------

It had been a long afternoon. Hermione still hadn’t left the bathroom, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Everytime she shouldered her bag and reached for the doorknob, tears started stinging her eyes again. It was something different every time. First it was the thought of facing Ron again, those were angry tears. Then it was how much she missed her parents, who always went to bat for her. Then she worried that Parvati would hate her now because she hadn’t talked to her. Maybe that was the kind of thing that made Ron’s say what he did. Then his words made her cry. Finally, the thought of going out and meeting up with the other Gryffindors with red puffy eyes was enough to keep her locked in there all night. 

She was starting to get hungry, and she knew she’d have to leave at some point. She decided she could push that moment a bit more if she did some homework in there. Hermione left the toilet stall, picked up her bag, and sat on the floor near the sinks. 

She was halfway through her Transfiguration reading when she heard a faint noise in the distance. She figured it was Peeves the poltergeist, and went on reading. But the noise drew nearer and louder. Soon, it was right outside the bathroom. Hermione was standing up to investigate. But her curiosity turned to terror as the noise, and now smell, entered the bathroom and she was staring at a Twelve-foot Mountain Troll.

“AAAAAAUGH!” She heard her own blood-curdling scream, she felt her brain say “Run for it!”, but she was frozen with fear. 

“Hermione!” Two boys darted into the bathroom, one with dark hair, one with red. She was pretty sure it was Harry and Ron, but was a bit preoccupied with the giant troll and his heavy club to be entirely sure. The troll smashed through the toilet stalls with the club. Her mind ran through all the spells she could think of, but none of them left her lips. She was done for. She was going to die, splattered on the bathroom floor. The troll thundered closer. It’s stench filled the air, suffocating Hermione and stifling her thoughts. Someone, maybe Harry, was tugging at her arm, yelling at her. But comprehension eluded her as fear continued to pulse loudly in her ears. 

Something broke through. It was Ron’s voice, saying, “Wingardium Leviosa!” 

The heavy club floated up above the troll and fell back on it’s head with a loud “Crack!” and the troll collapsed on the floor. 

“Is it dead?” She asked.

“I don’t think so,” said Harry, “ just knocked out.” 

Hermione’s head swam with the events of the afternoon. There most certainly was a troll here, she couldn’t deny that, mostly because of the smell. She was pretty sure she’d briefly talked to Parvati. Before that, it had been Ron, the same Ron here in this bathroom, that had been so cruel. But he and Harry had just saved her life. Maybe he didn’t hate her. Maybe he was just nervous about school like she was. Hermione thought about when her mom had told her how boys pick on girls because they like them. This was, in Hermione’s opinion, the biggest blunder in logic and reasoning. Teachers were arriving now and Professor McGonagall was reprimanding them all harshly. It wasn’t really fair if Harry and Ron got in trouble, they had saved her life. Hermione had to do a lot of quick thinking before she spoke.

“It was me. I thought I could handle the troll by myself, I’ve read all about them. If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. They didn’t have time to come and fetch anyone.” She lied. 

She saw Harry and Ron fumble their faces into agreement. 

“You silly girl! You could have been killed. I’m very disappointed in you, Miss Granger. Five points from Gryffindor, I’m sorry to say. If you’re not hurt, head back to Gryffindor tower. You are dismissed.” 

Hermione grabbed her bag and shuffled out of the rubble-filled bathroom. What was she thinking?! She had lied! To a teacher! She took in deep breaths of fresh, troll free air after rounding the corner of the corridor. Her thoughts were foggy the whole way back to the common room. As she climbed through the portrait hole, Hermione wondered, maybe she was just coming on too strong. Maybe she could ease up a bit on rules. 

Before she could gather her thoughts entirely, Ron and Harry climbed in through the portrait hole and stood beside her. They all looked nervously at their own shoes and said “thanks.”

A little while later, Hermione sat in one of the chairs near the fire. Ron and Harry were telling Fred, George, and Lee about the whole ordeal. Midway through the story though, she realized that something had changed. They weren’t talking about her, they were talking to her. They were asking her questions. She wasn’t on the outside anymore. She was a part of the story. A part of them.


	8. Norbert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon. Duh.

There was no contest, Hagrid certainly knew how to manage the grounds and creatures surrounding Hogwarts. However, his preference for dangerous creatures had come to a head when Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback showed up. Hermione had never found herself in a situation where she had to save someone from themselves. But over the course of the year, Hermione had begun to formulate the opinion that Hagrid was not only irresponsible, but a bit of an idiot. She would never divulge this opinion to anyone. She was fairly certain that the teachers held a similar opinion, and also chose to keep it to themselves. 

 

After a couple weeks of helping Hagrid tend to the dragon, Hermione reached a new tier of understanding. It had never occurred to her before that adults could have their pitfalls. Her parents were extremely responsible people, and had instilled those qualities in her. While Hagrid was helpful, he wasn’t exactly safe. He was especially untrustworthy when it came to secrets. After all, he had been the one to leak information to her, Harry, and Ron about the Philosopher’s Stone and Nicolas Flamel. He had been the one so irresponsible that he had taken Harry with him to the vault at Gringott’s where the stone had been. And, of course, he was the one now trying to keep a rapidly growing pet dragon inside his very small hut. 

 

Hermione decided that it was best if she, Harry and Ron found a way to remove the dragon from Hagrid without getting him into trouble. She still respected him, even if he was a bit daft. So, after a bite on the hand from Norbert sent Ron to the hospital, it was up to her and Harry. 

 

The evening came where they were to deliver the dragon to Charlie’s friends atop the astronomy tower. Under the invisibility cloak, Hermione and Harry met Hagrid at his hut. He was crying pitifully. It simply didn’t make sense to Hermione how he could have fathomed a decent outcome to this scenario. She tried to be comforting, but felt irritated internally about having to be the adult in this situation. 

 

To spite Harry, Hermione decided  _ not _ to levitate the crate that held Norbert. It was his fault that they were here in the first place, he was the one who had made friends with Hagrid. She thought that perhaps carrying the crate would further imbed the lesson in his mind. If Hermione didn’t need friends so badly, she might have reconsidered her allegiance. But as her pool of friends was more of a teacup, she felt she didn’t have much of a choice. 

 

As they climbed the stairs to the Astronomy tower, they stalled, sidling over to the wall while remaining under the cloak. Professor McGonagall was in the process of giving Malfoy a detention, and he had been in the process of trying to rat them out. Glee welled up inside Hermione as McGonagall dragged Malfoy away by the ear. She and Harry finally reached the top of the tower, and threw off the cloak. 

 

“Malfoy has detention! I could sing!” Hermione found herself actually dancing for joy. She’d never been one to relish in the misfortune of others. However, as Malfoy was an enormous prat, this was just too good to pass up. 

 

She and Harry laughed in hushed tones about Malfoy’s misfortune. They soon spotted four brooms and before long were introducing themselves to Charlie’s friends. 

 

“Aw, I thought we were going to get to meet ickle Ronniekins.” said one. 

 

“He’s in the hospital wing, he got bit the other night,” explained Harry. 

 

“Oh, shame.” said the second.

 

“I hope he mends up quick,” said the third. 

 

“How did you two manage this crate by yourselves? You must be a strong little bird.” said the fourth. Hermione froze. He was speaking to her. As she gazed up at his striking brown eyes, she couldn’t help but appreciate his kind features, his soft smile, and even the burn he had streaking up one arm. She was dumbstruck. Was this what a crush felt like? 

  
In a haze, she bid them farewell and bid Norbert good riddance. It wasn’t until they stood in Professor McGonagall’s office, having been found by Filch, that Hermione kicked herself. She had been so captivated by the handsome friend of Charlie’s (whose name she didn’t even know), that she had forgotten about the invisibility cloak. 


	9. End of first year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up the philosopher's stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your Kudos, comments and bookmarks! I'll be starting in on CoS pretty soon , if not tonight.
> 
> Sending light your way!

Their detention had been worse than any punishment Hermione thought possible. The sheer terror of seeing a dead Unicorn was enough to send her stomach into her throat. It broke her heart to see something so beautiful be so damaged. Of course, the knowledge that a fledgling version of Voldemort was hiding in the dark forest was also terrifying. Hermione was furious that the teachers and headmaster felt this was appropriate punishment. She'd expected to write lines, not find a concentrated evil.

Hermione didn't know what to do. She wasn't sure she really understood the whole picture. Her instinct was to do research. But with exams upon them she couldn't spare any of her available time for studying something new. She dove into her revisions, blocking out the horrors she couldn't fix.

However, a night of difficult revisions in the common room found Hermione anticipating new concerns. She couldn't seem to memorize the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct, let alone the dates surrounding the uprising of Elfric the Eager. What if she didn't pass? She wouldn't be able to come back. She would have to go to an non-magical school back home. The thought stung her eyes. She pulled her legs to her to her chest and set “A History of Magic" on her knees to hide the tears that were now spilling over.

There was a crowd gathered by the common room fireplace, watching Lee, George, and Fred. The three were bewitching their Gryffindor scarves to slither around the room like snakes. In itself, this wasn't scary. What sent everyone dashing about the common room was the fact that when they caught up to you, they'd tie up around your ankles and trip you. Neville was unsurprisingly the first victim, then some second year girls, and finally Ron and Harry. The crowd had scattered up to the dormitories, but the scarves continued about the room. One wound it's way up Hermione's chair and started to worm around her wrists. As it tightened, she lost her grip on her book, and thus lost her hiding place. She looked up at the three, but only Fred was looking in her direction. She didn't say anything and she couldn't stop her tears from plummeting faster. Being the butt of a joke certainly didn't help her feel better. Fred's smile fell and he darted over.

“Hermione, come on now, it's only a scarf.” He lifted the charm and the scarf slacked. Hermione brushed it off.

“It's not about the stupid scarf. I'm worried I can't- I'm scared I won't pass my exams.”

“That is the biggest heap of dragon dung I've ever heard. You are _constantly_ studying. Either that, or you have an unnatural obsession with the smell of books. If you don't pass exams, I'll eat this scarf. With a fork and knife and everything.”

This made Hermione smile. Fred knelt on the floor beside her chair.

“Look, I know you want to stay here reading. How about this- I’ll give you, eh, one hour to soak up whatever you think you need to, and then for tonight, you’re done. No falling asleep by the fire, no using a book as a pillow. If these books aren’t packed up and out of sight in one hour, I’ll make Angelina and Katie carry you up to your bed.”  

“But!”

“No buts! Please, Hermione, you’ll do fine.”

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and furrowed at Fred.

“Glaring at me won’t help. George and I have taken Mum’s glares as practice, by now we’re almost immune. Now, I suggest you do some reading before you get hauled away.” Fred smiled, stood, and started back towards George and Lee. Hermione wiped her tears with her sleeve and picked up “A History of Magic.”

 

\------

 

As the days went on, her fears concerning Voldemort eased up. By the time they finished their last exam for the year, Hermione had mostly dismissed the issue. She figured they would be traveling home soon, and then whatever lurked around Hogwarts would be an issue for someone else.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry made their way down to the lake. They found a shady spot in the grass and waited for a cool breeze to take away the heat of summer. They saw Lee, George, and Fred tickling the tentacles of the giant squid. Hermione smiled to herself. Lee nudged George who nudged Fred, and the three boys waved ridiculously at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They gave equally goofy waves back. Ron and Harry went back to talking, while Hermione kept watching the twins and Lee. She had more friends at Hogwarts than she'd ever had in her life. It was a nice feeling. She watched the three boys skip rocks for the giant squid to bat back at them. She saw Fred turn and look at her, Harry, and Ron. Or was it just her? A familiar swooping struck up around her stomach, kind of like when she’d met the friend of Charlie’s…

“I wish I knew what this means!” Harry unknowingly interrupted her thoughts. “My scar keeps hurting.”

“Go see Madame Pomfrey about it,” Hermione suggested.

“I'm not ill, I think it's a warning…”

 

\-----

 _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_  
_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_  
_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_  
_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_  
_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_  
_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._  
_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_  
_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_  
_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_  
_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_  
_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_  
_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_  
_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_  
_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_  
_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_ _  
_ Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

 _“_ Brilliant,” said Hermione. “It's logic. A lot of great wizards haven't an ounce of logic. They'd be stuck down here forever.”

“Well, so will we, won't we?” Harry moaned.

“Of course not!” Hermione snapped back at him. She rolled her eyes.  “Give me a moment.”

She walked up and down the table, muttering to herself, pointing and assigning each bottle it's clues. But she was thinking about how lost they'd be without her. The riddle was, in her mind, simple. After a few passes, she turned to Harry and said, “Ok, so from left to right we have poison, wine, poison, forward, poison, wine, back.”

“You’re sure?”

“Harry.” Hermione raised one eyebrow defiantly.

Harry nodded. “Right. Well, there’s only enough of the forward potion for one. You take the potion for going back, no listen to me, Hermione! Go back and help Ron. Fly the brooms out, head to the owlery and send a message to Dumbledore.”

Hermione threw her arms around Harry’s neck.

“Hermione!”

“Harry, you’re a great wizard you know.”

“Not as good as you.”

“Me! Books! And cleverness! There are more important things. Friendship, Bravery. You've been my friend when no one else would be. I've never had siblings, but I imagine that this is what having a brother feels like. Harry, be careful. I’ll send help as soon as I can.”

They took their potions and went in opposite directions. She felt awful leaving Harry to go on alone, but there was nothing for it.

Hermione almost tripped when she remembered the troll they’d passed on their way down. She slowed to a tip-toe while next to the troll, and once she was beyond him she rushed out of the room. She found Ron in the chess room, still unconscious.

“Ron, Ron! Wake up, please wake up!” She shook his shoulders violently. “RONALD WEASLEY!”

“It's was Fred and George!”

“What?”

Oh, Hermione, it's you. I thought you were mum. Where's Harry? Is he-”

“No, he's alive. At least, I hope he is. I'll explain on the way, we have to get up to the owlery. Come on, Ron!”

“I'm coming! Hold on, my legs are still asleep!”

\----

 

Hermione, Ron, and Harry sat up in the hospital wing, eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and talking about their most recent ordeal.

“Whew! Banana pudding!” Harry smiled in relief. "Then I looked in the Mirror of Erised, and saw myself put the stone in my pocket."

"And then you felt it really be in your pocket?" Ron asked.

"Yeah! It was wild. Dumbledore said he enchanted it like that on purpose."

“I think this one is grass.” Hermione grimaced. “It tastes like the worst salad I've ever had. So what happened to Quirrell?”

"I guess he was so taken over by Voldemort that just my touch caused him to burn up."

"You killed Quirrell?!" Hermione asked in astonishment.

"No, I don't think so. I mean, he is dead, or gone, or something. I think something in me killed the part of Quirrell that was Voldemort. But Quirrell was so far gone, there wasn't enough of him to save. I think. I'm not sure. But Voldemort is gone and that's what's important."

"I'll see what I can find on that in the library before we go home for the summer, " said Hermione.

Harry nudged Ron. “I dare you to eat a whole handful.”

“What'll you give me?” Ron inquired suspiciously.

“You can have the rest of these Chocolate Frogs, all the cards, even the ones I've already opened. Here,” he handed over a small stack of cards.

“Hmm, maybe.”

“And I'll throw in a Pumpkin Pasty on the train to King's Cross.”

“You're on.” Ron threw back a handful of beans. He began to chew, making ridiculous faces at the combination of good and bad flavors. Both he and Harry laughed hysterically. 

“Boys…” Hermione rolled her eyes.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Phoned it in. I mean, we're still in the first book. Landsagocean, let's move it along. Hey, remember how Harry and Ron WEREN'T on the train second year? Hmmmm...


	10. By train or by car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer and the Hogwarts express

It was summer. Once again, Hermione found herself lying on her bed, reading. The sky threatened rain, but didn't seem to want to follow through. She rolled her legs up to her chest, yanked the covers out from underneath herself, and then tucked in. She had missed her quilt. The ones at the school were nice. But this was home.

Upon arriving home, she had stowed her Hogwarts things properly. Her room was a strange collision of her old life and her new life. She had certificates from Primary framed on the wall, and now she had her “First in Class, First Year” certificate from Hogwarts hanging up as well. Her robes hung at the far side of her closet. She had draped her Gryffindor scarf over the hook on the back of her door.

It was strangely bittersweet to be home. Throughout the school year, she had so longed for the quiet and privacy of her room. Now she found herself occasionally missing the noise in the common room, laughing with Harry and Ron, and even having an adventure to go on. Since she’d been home, her parents had taken her to the Aquarium, but that hardly counted as thrilling.

THUD!

Hermione yelped and almost fell out of her bed. She would never get used to Errol. As she went downstairs to fetch Errol off the begonias, she thought about her two best friends. Ron had written her here and there. But she didn’t understand why Harry wasn’t writing back, and she was getting concerned.

Hermione had made a small bed for Errol out of an old apple crate the last time Ron sent him. She had tried to send Errol off straight-away, but he wouldn’t fly past the mailbox before falling out of the sky and then falling asleep. Since then, she simply let Errol sleep in her room with her return message already tied to his foot. He would make enough racket when he woke up that she knew it was time to open the window for him. She took the note from Errol's foot. It read:

_“Hermione, I haven't heard from Harry either. The aquarium sounds really weird. Don't read too much. -Ron”_

There was a light knock at the door.

“Hermione, dear, I think I heard Errol,” said Mrs. Granger. “Oh, I see he’s already up here.”

Hermione nodded. She scribbled the last few lines of a return message to Ron, indicating they should really think about checking up on Harry. She finished writing and tied the small scroll to Errol’s foot.

Mrs. Granger stood by and watched. “If you’re finished with that, I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

“Um, ok. Is everything alright?” Hermione climbed back under her covers and Mrs. Granger sat on the foot of the bed.

“Oh yes, nothing really new, just new to you.”

“Ok…”

“Hermione, before you go back to school this year, I believe we need to take you bra shopping.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Bra shopping.”

“Yes, dear. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s a natural part of growing up. I think we might look into getting a few different types, so that you can find what you like best before you head out for the year.”

Hermione felt her face heat up. What she liked best? What she liked best was not being teased by her _male_ friends about wearing a bra.

“Mum, do we have to? Can it wait until next summer?”

Mrs. Granger laughed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I wish it could. I don’t like the thought of you growing up anymore than you do. But you are, and, as a young woman-”

“Stop! Mum, please stop. I’ll go bra shopping.”

“Thank you. Before I go, I have another thing I need to discuss with you about the coming school year.”

“Mum, if you say ‘that time of the month’ or ‘birds and the bees’...”

“Hermione Jean! Please, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but it’s important. “

“Mum, I get it, I get how everything works. I’ve read up on it. It’s all squishy, and disgusting.”

Mrs. Granger laughed again. “That’s fair. I should’ve expected that from you. Then I don’t so much want to discuss the way everything works as much as the rights you have over your own body.”

"What?”

“Hermione, your body is _your_ body. No one has the right to inflict anything on you, names, harm, or themselves.” Mrs. Granger furrowed. “I just need you to know that you are beautiful, and you deserve to feel that way.”

“Oh. Ok. Thanks Mum. Can I go back to reading now?”

Mrs. Granger smiled impatiently. “Sure. Dinner will be in an hour. I'll leave some veg for Errol.”

“Thanks.”

\-----

_Kings Cross Station, 1 September_

“Hermione, take care over the school year, we'll see you at Christmas.” Mr. Granger smiled weakly.

“I'll be ok, I've got Harry and Ron this year!” Hermione called out over her shoulder as she ran toward the train. Summer had been long and boring. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her friends until she saw familiar faces on Platform 9 & ¾. Hermione saw Fred and George, and their sister Ginny in a compartment with Lee Jordan, so she joined them assuming Ron and then Harry weren’t far behind. She sat down next to a small red-haired girl.

“Hi, you must be Ginny, Ron’s told me all about you. I’m Hermione.”

“Hi Hermione! Ron’s told me about you too. Hey, did you guys really face the chess set and the devil’s snare and a three headed dog, or was Ron making stuff up?”

Hermione looked cautiously at the three boys, and then whispered, “Yes. We really did.”

“Cool!” said Ginny.

“Wait, you’re serious?” asked George, suddenly listening in.

“Well, yeah. I mean, we all had something we were good at that the others weren’t. Ron did the chess game,” said Hermione.

“We know.” said Ginny, Fred, and George in unison.

The train whistled and started out of the station.

 

“Where are Ron and Harry anyway? Do you think they’re in a different compartment?” Hermione asked.

“Why, are none of us good enough?” asked Fred indignantly.

“No! Of course you’re all wonderful. I just wondered where they were, that’s all. I've been worried about Harry being cooped up at the Dursley's.”

“Us too.” said George. “We went to rescue him, and there were bars on the window and his room was locked from the outside. Even Hedwig's cage had a lock on

“Bars? Locks? That's awful-” Hermione's heart sank. If he'd only responded to one of her letters, she would have asked him to stay with her and her parents.

“D’you remember Dursley's face?” laughed Fred. “ I've never seen a man so purple before.”

“And that mustache!” said George. He loudly imitated a walrus.

Ginny piped up, “Mom's been giving him extra helpings, well, they're normal helpings for Ron. He was so pale when he first got there.”

“Mom punished us for taking the car by making us de-gnome the garden,” said George. “Harry was supposed to stay in and rest, but he came out to help. Got a good bit of sun between that and flying practice. He looks better now.”

“That's good. I'm really glad you went to get him. It was really-” her voice caught, “really brave of you.” said Hermione. She was feeling more and more guilty.

“He'll be alright now, Hermione.” Ginny patted her on the arm.

“I didn't know you two knew how to drive.” Hermione was trying to change the subject.

Fred and George looked at each other and grinned.

“Well…” they said in unison.

Lee started chuckling.

George said, “We didn't,” 

“exactly," finished Fred.

“We took dad's car,” the twins said in unison. Lee was outright laughing now.

“Oh, and what type of car is that?” asked Hermione impatiently.

“That type!” Ginny jumped up out of her seat and pointed out the window.

They could just make out Ron and Harry's silhouettes inside a blue Ford Anglia, about 30 meters up.

“They are going to be…” Ginny dropped off.

“In so much trouble!” finished George.

“Excellent!” exclaimed Fred, George, and Lee.

  



	11. A new friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ginny share stories on the Hogwarts express.

The scenery ambled past the compartment window. The three boys had gone off to do who knows what prank to whom. Neville had come by, and Hermione was happy to see he was smiling and Trevor the toad was tightly clutched to his chest. When he left to go find Seamus and Dean, that left Hermione and Ginny alone.

Hermione was considering which books to check out of the library first, when Ginny spoke up.

“Do you, do you really spend a lot of time with Harry? A-a-and Ron?”

Hermione noticed a familiar Weasley blush tickle at Ginny's cheeks and ears. She seemed to tense up.

“Oh absolutely, they're my best friends. I didn't have any friends at all until them.”

“Do you like Harry, I mean, _like_ him?”

“Huh? Oh! No, I mean, I like him as a friend, but I don't like him _in that way._ He's like a brother, I even told him so last year.”

“Ok. Cool.” Ginny sat back and relaxed a bit.

The door opened.

“Anything from the lunch trolley?”

“No thanks,” said Hermione and Ginny in unison. They turned to each other and giggled about their accidental match up.

The door shut.

“My parents are dentists, so if they ever knew I was spending my time eating up candy, I think they'd go mental. They send me with sugar free candy instead.”

“What's the point?” Ginny looked utterly confused. “And what's a dentist?”

After a winding explanation of doctors in the muggle world, Hermione landed on dentistry. Ginny had been looking confused but her expression changed to one of horror.

“They pull your teeth out?!”

“Well, yes, but only the ones they need to.”

“Why do they “need” to?”

“Well what do wizards do?”

“Magic. Duh.”

“Well of course,” Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled. “What do they specifically do if a tooth is causing a problem?”

“I don't actually know. Mum always takes care of it for us. She does a lot for us.” Ginny's words trailed off. Hermione didn't draw attention to it, but noticed the slightest pooling of tears in Ginny's eyes.

“Your mum sounds really nice. What's she like?”

“Mum? She's the best. She gives the best hugs. She's always cooking something, so the house always smells like stew or fresh bread and the like. She started teaching me how to cook with magic last year. Before I turned 11, I could do some of the easier stuff. But it's a bit boring now that I can't do the spells at home. She knits us all jumpers for Christmas, and she wanted me to learn, but I think it's really boring. At least with cooking you get to eat right after.”

“What's she look like?”

"She has red hair like all of us, I think I have her nose and my dad's ears or something.She's only a little taller than Ron right now. He's hoping he's taller than her by end of term.  She doesn't dress up much, but I've seen her and dad go on a date before, and he turns all googly-eyed when she gets gussied up. Then he starts calling her Mollywobbles and we all run out of the room, gagging.” Ginny laughed. “Don't tell the boys, but I think it's cute. I just don't want them teasing me too. What's your mom like?”

“Oh she's lovely! Her hair is the same color as mine, but it's soft and fine. I think she goes to the salon and has them do something to tame it. She loves books, like me. She and I go on library adventures and see who can find the oldest book first. Sometimes, she sings to my dad in the car, then he joins her and then they both start singing really off tune to see who will laugh first. The worst is when they do that at stoplights with the windows down. The rest of the time they are very proper and polite, but can't be bothered while commuting. She's not much of cook, dad does most of the cooking. When she does cook, it's not that the food is _bad_ really, she just usually burns it. She gets caught up in thought or in a book and forgets to stir the food or take it out of the oven in time.”

“Forgets to stir? Why doesn't she use a stirring charm?”

“They're both muggles.”

“You're muggle-born?! Cool! Can you tell me more stuff? Like what's a muggle salon like? What's primary school like? Did you know you were a witch? ...Sorry…” Ginny blushed again.

Hermione smiled. “No, don't be embarrassed! It's ok. I've only gone to the salon to get my hair cut, they cut it with scissors. But mum goes for a color change sometimes and it takes her _forever_.”

“Weird.”

“I didn't like primary, not ever, really. I didn't know I was a witch, and odd things would happen when I was really upset.”

“Me too! I accidentally sent a bunch of books flying off the shelf at Percy last year. But I'd done other things before, so we all knew it was magic. I tried blaming it on Ron, but he wasn't even in the room. Git.”

Hermione laughed. “Why Ron?”

“Well it's usually Fred, George, and I getting into trouble, so when Mum starts yelling we always blame Ron or Percy first. One time I managed to get Charlie to take the heat for me when he was home on holiday, but he and Bill are always soft on me.”

“What's it like when they're all home?”

“Well, it doesn't happen a lot. Someone is either staying at school, busy with work, or visiting friends. But when we are all home, it's madness. Everybody is loud, except for Percy, he's just annoying. Bill and Charlie talk about work with Dad for a while, but they usually “un-grow-up" and hang out with us. There's always something brewing, some explosion, then Mum chases Fred and George, whether it was them or not. But really, it's always them, sometimes Bill and Charlie, sometimes Ron, and sometimes me. If you're not in on it, you're the target. Nobody wants that.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“One time when I was little, I can barely remember this, I got a really bad bloody nose and a black eye from a prank the twins were doing on Charlie. They'd hid in the pantry, waiting for Charlie to walk by, and they were going to jump out and scare him with a load of fireworks. Well I walked by, and they thought it was Charlie until I said something to Mum, George dropped a firework when he heard my voice, it went off, startled Fred, who then flung the door open to escape, and the door knob hit me right in the face.”

Hermione gasped and held her own nose. “Oh that sounds awful!”

“Ron says he'd never seen that much blood. Anyway, ever since then, Fred and George get reamed by Mum if they prank me, and also they usually take my side when Ron and I get into a row.”

“Wow. Your house sounds-”

“Chaotic?”

“Well, yes, but I wasn't going to- it's just, I don't have any siblings, so it's always quiet. Well, unless Mum’s burnt something again. Or if Errol comes round with the post.”

The girls laughed.

The sky outside the compartment was streaked with hues of orange and pink. The sun was tucking in behind the mountain for the evening. Hermione turned to Ginny.

“Let's get our robes out, I think we'll be there soon.”

“I can't wait to meet Hagrid. Charlie told me he's really nice, and a bit- um- …dense.”

Hermione was relieved that she wasn't the only one who felt this way, but chose not to express it. “Yeah, Hagrid had Harry, Ron, and I over for tea a few times last year. That's how we found out about Norbert.”

Fred, George, and Lee had returned to the compartment.

“Wait, Norbert was real?!” asked Lee.

“No way!” said Fred and George.

Hermione sighed.

The train slowed, and began pulling into the station as she finished telling them about Norbert. She didn't tell them about how awful their detention had been, she didn't want to frighten Ginny. Hermione thought if someone had told her that story as they approached Hogsmeade last year, she would have stayed on the train on gone straight back home.

“Firs’ years!” Hagrid bellowed. “This way firs’ years! ‘Lo Hermione, good ter see yer!”

“Hello Hagrid!”

“And you mus’ be Ginny Weasley! I reckon yer the purdiest of ‘em all.”

“Hi Hagrid!” Ginny laughed. “Any dragons this year?”

“Of course not!” He bellowed, then leaned down and whispered, “Not yet, that is.” He stood up and winked at Hermione. She gave a half hearted smile. “Now wher’re Ron and Harry? Not causin’ terrible already are they?”

“Of course they are.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Ah, well, best be gettin’ on ter the castle. We'll find out the trouble then I s’pose. Firs’ years!”

“See you in a bit, Hermione!” Ginny called out. She and Hagrid made their way towards the boats along with the other first years.

Hermione realized she was now standing alone. She had a creeping sensation that she would have to ride in a carriage all by herself. She felt her heart sliding into her shoes when she heard someone yell,

“OY! ‘MIONE! Over here!” Fred, George, and Lee were standing in a carriage at the front of the line, waving her over frantically. It started towards the castle, Hermione's heart jumped back up into her chest, and she took off at a run.

“Hurry!” cried Lee.

“Go! Go! Go!” chanted Fred. Hermione gained on the carriage. The crowd of Gryffindors picked up the chant. She was passing the line of carriages.

“Go! Go! Go!” They began to clap in rhythm, and more voices joined in. Hermione had almost closed the distance between her and the moving carriage. The crowd grew louder.

“Go! Go! Go!”

Hermione was even with them now, still running for all she was worth. Fred leaned over, reaching out with one hand and steadying himself with the other.

“C’Mon, take my hand!” He yelled over the crowd.

Time slowed. Hermione looked up at Fred, saw him smiling, felt herself smile, heard her pulse pounding. She took a deep breath, and with everything she had took a flying leap towards the carriage step, holding out her hand.

“Gotcha!” Fred cheered. He caught her hand and pulled her up. Hermione flew into the carriage. Fred grabbed her in a bear hug, and they fell on the floor.

The crowd erupted into hoots, hollers, whistles, and applause.

“Nicely done, Hermione!” said George.

“Thanks!” She smiled. “And thanks,” breath, “for saving,” breath, “a seat!” Lee helped her up onto the seat, and George helped Fred up.

“Bet your glad you took that Fumiserum now,” Fred nudged Hermione's leg with his foot.

“Don't think I'd have made it, otherwise!” Hermione laughed.

They trundled along toward the castle. The crowd had died out as they rounded a bend, Hogsmeade disappearing behind the trees. Fred and Lee started singing a rude song to any of the forest creatures that would listen. George leaned towards Hermione.

“Hey, thanks for sitting with Ginny today. She'd never say it, but I think she was nervous.”

“Oh it was lovely, I really like her. Did you two really hit her in the face with a doorknob?”

Fred whipped his head around, and the singing halted. “That was a complete accident! I've never felt more terrible in all my life.”

“Me either,” said George. “After mum sentenced us to death, we went back up to our room and-”

“-We both cried.” Fred finished. “Not our finest hour. D’you know what the worst part is? Bill figured it out, told Charlie, and Charlie put her up to it, sent her first as bait. He figured she'd just startle a little and run crying to Mum.  Anyway, we all swore we'd keep Ginny safe from then on.”

“I don't think she likes it,” said George, “being the only girl and the youngest. I think she feels a bit overprotected at times. Don't get me wrong, she is one tough cookie, but I think we all have a soft spot for her. But she's still really fun to prank.”

“Yeah, well, she fights back!” Fred chuckled. “Last summer, we were out in the garden, it was really mucky from a heavy rain. I pushed her into mud, just a bit, not hard, but her Wellington boots got stuck. Ron, George and I started laughing while she stood there trying to keep her balance. Then, while we weren't looking, she plucked up a really muddy gnome and flung it at me. Then we all got in a big mud fight.”

Hermione sighed in exasperation. “Do you really have to cause so much trouble?”

Fred and George didn't even blink. They replied in unison,

“Yeah!”

Hermione was about to ask them why when a loud noise rumbled overhead. Hermione shrieked, the twins yelled, and Lee ducked. Shuttling towards the castle was a pair of headlamps and red taillights they could only assume belonged to one blue Ford Anglia.

“Just in time!” Lee hollered up at the car.

The carriage pulled up to the castle. They jumped out and headed in for the sorting ceremony. Hermione figured if Harry and Ron were daft enough to try flying a car, they probably deserved whatever punishment was coming their way. At the Gryffindor table, Hermione took a seat next to George and across from Neville, Dean, and Seamus.

The sorting stretched on, and “Weasley, Ginny” was the last to be called. When Ginny sat under the old sorting hat, it deliberated a moment. Hermione remembered her own conversation with the hat and wondered what Ginny might be hearing.

“Gryffindor!”

The table cheered. Fred and George yelled so loud Hermione had to cover her ears. They leapt out of their seats and did a jig together  while Ginny walked over towards them. George and Hermione made space for Ginny between them. Fred and George beamed at her.

“Ginevra Molly Weasley, welcome to Gryffindor!” They bellowed together.

Ginny did a voice that sounded like an old lady, “Oh why thank you fine gentlemen!” She gave a flourished curtsy and sat down.

While Dumbledore gave his beginning of term speech, Hermione whispered to Ginny,  “I'm really glad we're in Gryffindor together.

“Me too.” Ginny smiled back.


	12. Mudblood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new term for a new term.

At breakfast the next morning, Hermione was reading _Voyages with Vampires._ She sat next to Ginny and across from Neville. Ginny was chattering on about how excited she was to start classes. Neville was poking his fork at his uneaten breakfast, looking rather pale. Ginny asked, “What's wrong, Neville?”

Neville sighed and put his fork down. “Snape. I was excited to come back until I remembered Snape. He hates me. I'm always scared he's going to curse me or kill me.”

“Oh Neville, honestly,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “he's not going to curse or kill _anyone_. He's a teacher.”

“Fine, but he's still mean to me in class. He makes fun of me and most of the time he throws away my potions. I'm always afraid of what he's going to do. I almost failed last term because of him.”

“You can't let him get to you like that,” said Ginny. “You should try what I do! When I'm afraid, I clench my fist. When I was little, my mum would kiss my palm and ball my hand up into a fist. She said it would keep me safe. I know it's silly, but it makes me feel better. Like, she's always on my side. You should try it. Do you have anything like that with your parents?”

Neville looked down at his plate. “Well, kinda,” he replied and then murmured something about gum wrappers.

Hermione's face lit up. “Oh! Daisy chains! My dad and I make those. Our longest one stretched up the stairs and back down again. Is it like that?”

Neville considered something, but before he could answer, owls swooped from overhead with the morning post. The Gryffindor table was filling up, and they were now joined by Fred, George, Lee, Harry, and Ron. Hermione strained to hear Neville's response over the noise of the post. Her attention was then taken up by Errol, who managed to land legs up in the milk. Ron dangled the dripping owl and a soggy red envelope over his plate.

Hermione was checking Errol over when Mrs. Weasley's disembodied voice carried across the entire hall.

“ **_RONALD WEASLEY!!!_ ** ”

The entire hall stopped and stared to hear the lecture continue.

“- **_YOU WAIT TIL I GET A HOLD OF YOU_ ** **-** ”

Ron's ears were bright magenta. Harry sat next to him in a stupor of guilt. Neville looked around nervously. Hermione found herself incapable of holding in her laughter. She had made eye contact with Ginny, which sent them both into fits.

“- **_IF YOU STEP ONE TOE OUT OF LINE-_ ** ”

There were large grins plastered on Lee, Fred and George, which made Hermione laugh more. But Harry and Ron didn't notice the laughter, especially not above the shrill sound of Mrs. Weasley's disappointment.

Hermione returned to reading _Voyages with Vampires,_ a smirk tugging at her lips. She caught another glance at Ginny causing another fit of laughter at the table. Hermione thought, “ _I will not say they deserved it, I will not say they deserved it, I will not… “_

\-----

It was the end of their first week back at Hogwarts. Hermione woke up on Saturday morning determined to get in some reading. She hastily got dressed and put her hair back in a plait. She grabbed the first half of the books assigned them by Professor Lockhart and packed them into her bag. She shouldered the bag and headed down the stairs, through the common room, and pushed open the portrait hole. She heard the fat lady yawn and go back to snoring.  

When Hermione arrived in the great hall for breakfast, she saw some of the Gryffindor Quidditch team heading out with their brooms in one hand and pieces of toast in the other. She felt a tug inside. A lot of her friends were either on the team or, at the very least, interested in Quidditch. It just wasn’t her thing. By the end of last term, she had managed to get comfortable with flying practice. She was able to perform the skills Madame Hooch assigned them, but she definitely didn't have the flair of Harry or Ron.

“Speak of the devil!” Hermione gave Ron a smile.

“Wha? Hermione, you're alone, there's no one- Are, are you feeling alright?” Ron sat down across the table from her, leaning forward to analyze her face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I'm fine, I was just thinking to myself how much better at flying you are than I am. I just saw the Gryffindor team leave for the pitch. Why didn't you try out?”

Ron blushed up to the tips of his ears and looked down at his eggs and toast. He hastily recovered. “Uh, thanks, I uh, dunno. D’you wanna go watch practice with me?”

“Sure. I may read a bit, here and there.” Ron made to protest, but Hermione put a piece of toast in his open mouth and said, “Don’t tell me I read too much, or that it’s Saturday and I should just have fun. I have books I _want_ to read. Now, eat your breakfast.”

Ron bit the toast and said thickly, “Wehl! Boh kay ven.”

\-----

After half an hour of looking down at the empty Quidditch pitch, there was still no sign of the Gryffindor team. In fact, the only other Gryffindor around was Colin Creevey, and he was busy snapping photos of the scenery. A group finally strode out into the morning sun. Ron stood up.

“Uh oh. Hermione, get your books together, we've got trouble.”

She looked up from _Gadding with Ghouls._ “Huh, what? Why?”

Ron helped her put the rest of the books in her bag and handed it to her. “C'mon, let's go!”

They ran down the stairs of the stands. Hermione said, “Ronald! Please tell me why we are running!”

“Slytherin is out on the pitch, but we're supposed to have the pitch. And I'm pretty sure I saw Malfoy's ugly face out there.”

“I know Malfoy is awful, but he's not ugly.”

Ron stopped running down the stairs and rounded on Hermione, his lip curled in disgust. “I don't believe you!”

“What? I'm not saying I _like_ him! I'm just telling the truth, and the truth is that he's _not ugly_.”

Ron glared at her, then turned and continued on down the stairs. Hermione followed after him.

“I didn't even say he was _handsome._ Honestly, Ronald…”

He shot her another glare and shook his head. They left the stands and made their way across the field. In the time they'd spent running down the stairs, the Gryffindor team had showed up and was now facing off with the Slytherins.

Ron muttered under his breath, “Not ugly…” As they approached the two teams he raised his voice to full volume and asked, “What's going on, why's _he_ here?” Ron pointed at Malfoy.

“I'm the new seeker,” Malfoy sneered, “and I come bearing gifts.”

The entire Slytherin team held up matching brooms. Hermione stared, confused at first. She thought the big deal was about the brooms all matching, and thought “ _What a trite thing to boast.”_ But a moment later she realized that these were fancy, new, expensive brooms.

“My father thought we could do with an upgrade,” said Malfoy.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. “At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in, they got in on pure _talent_.”

Harry gave her an embarrassed smile. Fred and George were at the front of the group, laughing in agreement.

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood.”

Chaos broke out. Fred and George jumped at Malfoy. The Slytherins jumped at Fred and George. The Gryffindors jumped at the Slytherins who had jumped at Fred and George who were now wrestling Malfoy to the ground. Ron drew his broken wand and yelled, “Eat slugs, Malfoy!”

Everyone broke apart in fear of the spell, but it backfired and hit Ron square in the chest. He stumbled back, turned green and began belching up slugs. The whole group of Slytherins laughed at Ron. Harry and Hermione each took a side and helped Ron off the field. He belched slugs with every few steps. Colin ran and caught up with them, the shutter on his camera clicking non-stop.

“Hi ya, Harry, where are you off to? Mind if I come along?”

“Not now, Colin!” Harry snapped.

“Alright, see you later then!” Colin waved enthusiastically after them.

When they were out of earshot, Hermione said, “Harry, that really wasn't very nice, he's just trying to be your friend.”

“No, he's trying to be my _fan_. I've already got enough fans and I prefer my friends, even if they are puking up slugs.”

“Thanks, m-mate,” Ron managed to say between heaves.

“Anytime,” said Harry.

“You lot…” Hermione started, but was too out of breath to continue arguing.

\----

The morning light filtered in through the windows of Hagrid's hut. The room had a slight haze and a rich smell of smoke from the ever present fire that crackled in the fireplace. Steam drifted above four extra large tea cups Hagrid had placed on the table.

“Drink up,” encouraged Hagrid, “I grew the Peppermint m’self! Got a good spot out there next tuh the pumpkins.”

Ron responded by splattering the bottom of the pail between his feet with a dozen or so slugs.

“Get ‘em all up, Ron.” Hagrid smiled. “Who were yeh tryin’ to curse, anyway?”

“Malfoy,” said Harry. His knees were now soaked with drool from Fang, who was “lovingly” draped over Harry’s lap. “He called Hermione something, it must've been bad, Fred and George nearly tore Malfoy in half before Ron, well…"

“I reckon he has a crush on yer and is just rubbish at saying it,” Hagrid offered.

“No, he called her a mudblood-” Ron was cut short as he heaved more slugs into the pail.

“I can tell it's bad, but I don't know what it means!” said Hermione.

Hagrid and Ron explained the slur.

“So it’s because I’m Muggle-born? That’s all?” Hermione was confused. It certainly wasn't the first bad name she'd been called. It might have stung more if she had known what it meant when Malfoy had said it. But really, she found the whole idea of pure and mixed blood a bit ridiculous. She had been first in her year. She knew she was a competent witch regardless of her family tree.

Ron’s heaves had slowed down enough he could speak. “Well, yeah, but it’s dumb really. Wizards and witches would’ve died out if we hadn’t married muggles.”

Hagrid echoed her thoughts by saying, “An’ they haven’ invented a spell our Hermione can’ do.”

She tried to hide her blushing face behind the massive tea cup. It wasn't that her parents weren't proud, they were, absolutely so. But Hermione didn't think they knew what to be proud _of_. Hagrid, on the other hand, could see how she was really trying to do well (and succeeding). The thought that someone in the magical world was proud of her efforts brought tears to her eyes.

After they finished their tea and Ron had stopped belching up slugs, the trio began to head back towards the castle. Ron and Harry stepped outside, shouting “thanks” over their shoulders. But Hagrid stopped Hermione. He knelt down, put a large, calloused hand on her shoulder, and looked her in the eye.

“Now, Hermione, don’ be listenin’ to that Malfoy. If he thinks he's more importan’ than yer, he's got another thing comin’.”

“Thanks, Hagrid.” Hermione smiled, turned in awkward embarrassment and ran to catch up with Harry and Ron.


	13. A better study partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ginny

A cool, September air had draped itself over the castle.  As Hermione led Ginny through the winding shelves of the Library, she smiled  over her shoulder.

“C'mon, it's over this way! I've always wanted to share my favorite study nook. Well, with someone who actually wants to study, that is. Ron and Harry find me here sometimes, but they are _hardly_ productive. They distract me more than if I just sat in the common room. Up there, their voices fade into the din of the room. In here, it’s always-” Hermione took on a low, mocking tone, “‘Uh, Hermione, can you read over my essay? Hey, Hermione, can I look at your notes?’ ”

Ginny burst into loud laughter, then clamped her hand over her mouth. The two girls looked at each other, wide eyed and smiling. After a short pause, they heard a familiar cough that told them Madame Pince had heard the outburst. Ginny removed her hand from her face and mouthed, “Oops. 

Hermione grinned from ear to ear. “Quick, we're almost there! If she finds us, we can look like we've been studying.” Hermione took Ginny's hand and they scurried around corners, wove through aisles, and at last came to the clearing. They sat down at the table across from each other, dumping their overloaded school bags on the floor.

Another cough echoed through the library, and it was closer. Hermione grabbed three books at random and opened them all up to the middle. She took out her quill and a piece of parchment and began writing nonsense.

Meanwhile, Ginny followed suit. She had all five of her books spread out on the table. She  pulled out a quill and a half written letter. She was just setting her quill to the paper when a figure appeared in the clearing.

“Hello, girls. Studying hard, I see.” Madame Pince melted into an unusual softness. She smiled at the pair, then hunched away, looking for her next detention victim. 

Hermione's face lit up with relief. She whispered, “Whew! That was close!" 

Ginny nodded in agreement, stifling a giggle. “Ron says she's mean, but that wasn't all that bad.” 

“That's because she likes me.” 

“No way! Really? How'd you manage that?”

“Well, last year, I bought her a Christmas present. It was simple, really, just a small beaded chain for her glasses. But since then, she's been nice to me.”

“So what's Ron's problem?”

“Oh of course she's mean to him, he can't keep his voice down and he spends all his time in here whining about our assignments.” 

“That sounds like him.” Ginny shook her head and rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Hey, what were you writing there?”

“Nothing really. The first part is gibberish. But I want to write to my parents, so I started putting my thoughts down.”

“Cool! I'm writing a letter to my parents too! I started mine in history class. I never thought I'd have so much trouble just trying to stay awake in class.”

“You get used to it. Hey, how about we finish up our letters before we start on homework?”

“Yeah, ok! I told my parents about Ron puking slugs last week. What should I say in this one?”

“Hmm… maybe say how classes are going. Oh, yes, and tell them about your favorite. Parents like hearing about things like that." 

“Well that's easy. My favorite is Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not because of Lockhart though. I actually really like what I'm learning from the book. I think mum is secretly hoping that one of us gets in enough trouble that she has to come out, and then she'd get another chance to meet Lockhart.” 

“He _is_ handsome. But-” 

“Stupid?”

“Well, yeah!” Hermione was surprised by her realization. “His books are so excellent, but in person he's…”

“An absolute idiot.” 

“...yeah…”

“In our lesson the other day, he jinxed Colin's shoelaces to tie themselves together. Lockhart couldn't get the counter jinx right, and Filch had to come in and cut the laces.”

“Woah. Filch? Wow. Maybe it's nerves?”

Ginny shrugged. “I dunno. I just hope he doesn't pick me for anything.” After a few minutes of quiet writing, Ginny picked up her letter and said, “Ok, how's this sound?

_‘Dear Mum and Dad, I miss you both. I hope life at the Burrow isn't too boring without us kids there. If it is boring, please don't have more kids. Instead, you should put a gnome in each of our rooms. They'll make a dreadful mess and it will be like we never left! I suggest putting extras in the twins room, you know, for accuracy of messiness. And a huge bonus, if you get angry at them, you actually CAN throw them over the hedge. It's a win-win._

_School is great. I'm having a lot of fun. Not Fred-and-George fun, and not Hermione-Harry-and-Ron fun, just regular old fun. My favorite class is DADA. Mum, I hate to tell you this, but Professor Lockhart is a bit idiotic in person. But the information is great! I want to get really good at defense, like Charlie's friend, Tonks. She was really cool._

_Hermione and I are in the library, so I better get to studying. I love you, Mum. I love you, Dad. I love you, Garden-Gnome-Ginny. Can I call you G3? Please un-make my bed, G3, for posterity._

_Love,_

_Ginny’_

What do you think?” asked Ginny.

“That's great! I think they'll love it. Would you like to hear my letter?”

“Of course!”

“Ok, here goes-

_‘Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I'm sitting with Ginny in the library. Mum, you would love it in here. There are so many ancient books, I think you would find it hard to know where to start. Someday I want to bring you here._

_Classes are going well. Nothing big to report. As usual, Harry and Ron are pestering me for my notes. One of these days I should just charm the notes to give them the wrong answers but appear normal to me. Hm…_

_I was called a name the other day. “Mudblood.” It's a really bad word in the magical world. I guess there is a group of people who care how much magic is in your blood; “pureblood,” “halfblood,” or the polite term “muggle-born”, which is what I am (obviously). I'm sad to learn that there is a prejudice amongst witches and wizards. I assumed there was less of that type of separation, but it seems silly now to think that people would be different just because they can turn an ottoman into an antelope. I wonder if the “magical-ness" of one's blood is visible under the microscope at your practice. I highly doubt it. Whatever the case, I'm pretty confident that Ginny and I could out-hex anyone who makes a big deal about it._

_I hope things at home are going well. I love you both!_

_Hermione’"_

 

She looked up at Ginny, who was frowning.

“Hermione, I'm really sorry Malfoy called you that- that- name. Fred told me about it over lunch that day. It made me so mad! I wanted to go to the Slytherin table and smash Malfoy's face in his plate. Fred offered to help me, but George said it wouldn't do any good. I told him he sounded like Percy. He said, ‘Pick your battles.’”

“He's probably right.”

“Well, I told him ‘Pick your nose.’ And then I hexed both of his index fingers up his nostrils.”

Hermione put her face in her hands and giggled. “Oh Ginny, you didn't…” 

“I did! I was mad! It's a really bad name, Hermione. Malfoy shouldn't get away with calling anyone that, let alone my best friend!”

Hermione blushed. She didn't know what to say, she'd never had a girl say she was her best friend. But Ginny didn't notice and kept on talking.

“I've never liked the Malfoy's, or a lot of their relatives. I hate that we're distantly related. It's just gross." 

“What? You're related to-” 

“Don't say it! Blech! Yes, we are. All the pure bloods are related. It's kinda creepy.”

“You're-”

“Pure-blood.” Ginny sighed. “Well, technically, I think we're considered ‘blood traitors.’ But it's all just names. We all bleed the same blood. Well, at least, that's what my parents say. I listen in from the linen closet when they have company over. Especially last year when Ron started here. Mum always found out after I'd been in there though because I'd make a pile of towels on the floor and forget to put them away.” 

Hermione smiled. “I like to listen in on my parents too. But I hide in our pantry because our linen closet is upstairs. I have a spot hidden behind the tins where I keep a torch and a few books.”

Suddenly, two boys wandered into the clearing and plopped down at the table.

“Hermione, can't you find a spot closer to the door?” Ron grumbled. “We need help with transfiguration.” Harry nodded in agreement, but smiled at both of the girls. 

Hermione looked at Ginny and rolled her eyes. At least, she looked at the spot where Ginny had previously been. Ginny, now bright red, was standing and hastily cramming her books back into her bag. She gathered it up in her arms in a bundle, clumsily dropping her quill, then her letter to her parents. She scraped both up off the floor and ran out of the library.

Harry looked around. “What was that about?”

Ron shrugged. “Dunno.”

Hermione shook her head.


	14. Grocery List of Thievery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione needs help getting ingredients. Who to ask...?

“... _Enemies of the heir, beware_.”

Harry was in the hospital wing, regrowing the bones in his arm. Ron and Hermione were studying together at a table in the Gryffindor common room. While he scribbled away at an assignment from History of Magic, she read in her potions textbook. She was in the middle of a difficult section about the importance of Flobberworm mucus when-

“Hermione, can you look over my essay?”

Ron held his parchment out to Hermione expectantly. She paused. A fleeting demon whispered in her ear, “Just toss it into the fire, he'll learn.” The thought was tempting...

“Oh fine.” Hermione snatched up the parchment, but quickly turned it back to Ron. “At least make sure to put your name on it before you turn it in.”

Ron mumbled something while he illegibly scrawled his name and the date, then began packing up his books. He stood up. “Can you bring it to breakfast then?”

“What, you can't wait up five minutes?!”

“Oh, yeah, I s’pose.” He slumped back into his chair. The common room was fairly quiet now. It was growing late. The crackling of the fire could be heard between bits of conversation. A few seventh years were studying in one corner, looking thoroughly overwhelmed. Closer to the fire were Fred, George, and Lee, reading quietly and being surprisingly docile. And of course, tucked away somewhere was an unseen duo. However, everyone could hear their whispers, giggles and the occasional grotesque slurping.

“Ok, Ron, you have a few grammatical errors and you have two of the dates mixed up. See, right here, and here?” Hermione leaned closer to point out the errors. She noticed a peculiar discomfort in Ron as she did so, but ignored it. Ron took the parchment and examined her marks.  

“Right. Thanks, Hermione. Er, ‘Night.” Ron picked up his things and walked briskly towards the stairs. He got caught in between a couple of the seventh year boys trying to do the same. He awkwardly shuffled around before cutting across both of them and taking the stairs in two’s. Despite his haste, Hermione could still see his ears turning red.

“Goodnight then.” She waved at his back, her face scrunched in confusion. Had she said something? Did she stink? She took a whiff, pretending to scratch her nose on her shoulder. No, the perfume charm Parvati had taught her seemed to be working just fine.

She shrugged it off, and returned to her Potions textbook. The common room continued to empty. The conspicuous couple emerged and lingered at the bottom of the stairs, unaware that absolutely everyone was rolling their eyes. With the effort of pulling apart pieces of tape, the pair disconnected and left for their dormitories. The remaining seventh years gave up, slamming their books shut. They trudged off to bed, defeat hanging on their shoulders.

The room grew increasingly quiet. It was just the crackling of the fire, until a snore broke through. Hermione looked up.

George and had fallen asleep, book still open in his lap, mouth gaping open.  

Fred nudged Lee, then held a finger to his lips, silently shushing him. They both smirked. Fred took his quill and pointed the feather tip at George's face. He paused. George let out another loud snore. Fred and Lee stifled their laughs. Even Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Fred barely tickled George's nose with the feather quill. Nothing. He swept the quill over George's forehead. No reaction. Fred gave Lee a thumbs up. Lee drew his wand and whispered something into his book. Then he held it open in front of George's face. Fred nodded, smiling mischievously. He held up three fingers, two, one- 

CRACK!

Lee slammed the book shut and white feathers billowed out of it's pages like over-grown dust particles. Fred took on a shrill female voice.

“GEORGE FABIAN! GET THESE CHICKENS OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

George clamored to his feet, terror stricken. He looked around frantically, spitting out feathers.

Fred and Lee were in stitches, rocking back in their chairs, laughing and pointing at George.  Hermione couldn't help but laugh along.

“Oh that's rich, you two.” George sputtered. He pinched a feather off his tongue. He turned to Hermione, who was still laughing. “You just let them? And here I thought you were on _my_ side.”

Hermione dramatically grabbed at her heart. “Oh, my deepest regrets,” she said in-between giggles.

Lee had laughed himself onto the floor, and all Hermione could see of him we're his feet. Fred was sideways in his chair, legs over one arm rest and head dipped back over the other. They both clutched their chests in laughter. 

George brushed himself off, leaving a circle of feathers on the floor around him. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh away. I'm going to bed. Gits.” 

Lee clambered to his feet. “Wait up, I'm coming too.”

“I'm not waiting and you'd better hope I don't get to the room before you.” George glowered.

“Ack!” Lee jumped to his feet and raced towards George at the bottom of the stairs. The two of them shouldered each other, trying to gain a lead. Slowly, they squabbled their way up the stairs and out of sight.

Hermione smiled, shook her head, and turned back to her Potions book. She read and re-read the same sentences. In the quiet, she recognized a growing shadow in the back of her mind.

Ron and Harry were one step away from expulsion. The flying car incident had nearly landed them back home. Now, the three of them were halfway through brewing a polyjuice potion. They needed to get a confession out of that muggle-hating Malfoy.

But they also needed more ingredients. Ingredients they would have to steal from _Snape_ .  
  
It had to be her.

Her stomach plummeted. What if she got caught? _What if you don't do anything and get killed by whatever is in the chamber?_

Option A, detention and possibly expulsion. Option B, death.

Hermione thought to herself, “ _I really need to work on NOT getting in these situations.”_

Just as she was scolding herself for dreaming up the plans she was dreaming up, a paper airplane landed on her lap. She jumped, then looked up. Fred was laughing. He walked over and sat down beside her.

“A knut for your thoughts, Hermione?” 

Hermione furrowed. Should she tell Fred? Would he blab their secret plan?

“You know Fred, I think you're mischievous enough that you can keep a secret.”

“I'm a veritable chamber of them.”

 “I should’ve seen that coming.”

“You walked right into it.” Fred shrugged and smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I think Harry, Ron, and I are on to something. I think we’ve got a good plan to stop the heir of Slytherin. But I need a few more things.” 

Fred crossed his arms and stared at the table. “Ok. Sounds… like you three.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Go on.” 

“Well, the things I need-”

“Should I ask what you need these things for?”

“Probably not.”

“Right. Continue.”

“Well, they’re not exactly, you know, in plain sight.”

“Meaning they’re?" 

“Locked up.”

He nodded solemnly.

“In Snape’s store cupboard.” 

Fred hunched forward, sighing. “You know, you three really know how to pick trouble!”

“We don’t pick trouble! It just...happens.”

“Whatever you say.” He yawned and continued talking. “So where do I come into this plan?”

“Well, do you know about Harry’s cloak?”

“Wait, do you want me to steal something so I can help you steal something?” 

“No! Borrow! And then borrow…”

“Yeah, go on.”

“Without…”

“Mhmm…”

“Returning?”

“There it is. You're trouble and you don't even know it.” He sighed, but smiled. “So why can’t Harry or Ron help?”

“I’m afraid they’d get expelled if they got into anymore trouble. I know you and Ron don’t always get along, but you can’t actually want him expelled. Not to mention Harry’s in the hospital regrowing all 30 of the bones in his arm.”

“Well, Ron can be a git, but I’ll do it for Harry. I reckon I’ll make a rule breaker out of you yet, Granger.” Fred clapped his hands and stood up. “I’ll be back then.”

“Really? So you’ll help us?”

“Yeah, why not?” Fred made his way across the common room.

“Aren’t you worried about getting into trouble?”

“Not even a little!” He winked, then turned up the stairs.

Hermione was a bit stunned. She had thought this would take more convincing. She snapped back to reality and reached into her bag. She withdrew _Moste Potente Potions,_ and turned to the page entitled _Polyjuice._ She scribbled a list on a spare bit of parchment. Then, she emptied her bag of the remaining books and stacked them on the table, making sure to put _Moste Potente Potions_ underneath her large Transfiguration textbook. 

Fred bounded back down the stairs, invisibility cloak in hand.

Hermione shouldered her bag. “Was it hard to get? What did you tell the other second years?”

“It wasn’t hard at all because the other second years are fast asleep. Which, if I were any kind of older, responsible brother, I’d tell you to go up to bed too. But lucky for you, I’m not, so let’s go.” 

The two ducked underneath the cloak and headed through the portrait hole. The first thing Hermione noticed was that the cloak didn’t smell like it normally did. When she, Harry, and Ron had used the cloak last year, the air inside tended to sting the nostrils. She had assumed it was because the cloak was old. She now realized it was actually Harry and Ron. Fred didn’t smell like a flower. But at least you could tell he used soap. 

They quietly crept through the corridors, down the stairs, and into the dungeons. They stood in front of Snape’s private store cupboard. Hermione looked around.

“I don’t see anyone coming. Do you?” 

“No.” 

Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at the lock. “Alohomora!” 

Fred looked at her, stunned. “Where’d you learn that?”

“I guess, um, from you.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” he scoffed. 

“No, you didn’t teach me. You had it written on your hand last year. I looked it up out of sheer curiosity.”

“Oh yeah! George and I were trying to sneak into-” Fred stopped himself short. 

“Into where, exactly?”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

“I promise.”

Fred eyed her suspiciously. “We were sneaking into the library.”

Hermione gasped. 

“I know! I know! It’s hard to believe. However, oh calm down, however, we were trying to get into the restricted section to look up potions that would make better fireworks.”

Hermione hit her forehead with her hand. “You two find ways to ruin the most sanctimonious of places.”

“Says the girl with a grocery list of thieving to get on with.”

“Oh honestly, at least I’m interested in the greater good.” 

“Don’t get all high and mighty with me. I care about it, I do. I just show it different.”

“Let’s just get the stuff and get out of here. The dungeons are creepy!” Hermione made for the doorknob, but it was still locked. She tried again. It wouldn’t budge. She said more firmly, “Alohomora!”

Fred shook his head. He withdrew a couple long pins from his pocket. “And you call yourself Muggle-born. C’mon Hermione, haven’t you ever picked a lock?” 

“I most certainly have _not._ And what exactly made you want to learn?”

Fred knelt down and began twisting the pins inside the lock. “Oh, Dad collects all sorts of muggle things. He found a locksmiths set once. George and I played with all the doorknobs in the house, switching them around, putting the lock on the wrong side. Mum managed to lock herself in the bathroom. She was not happy. Anyway, we just kept the set around. We used it to get Harry out of the Dursley’s this summer. It’s quite handy. As you can see.”

He pushed the door open.

“Fred, that’s excellent! Alright, help me find these, if you don’t mind.” Hermione was staring at her list.

“Ok, what do we have,” he leaned in over her shoulder. Hermione noticed she was starting to feel really warm. She threw off the cloak, though it didn't help as much as she thought it would.

Fred read aloud, “Bicorn Horn, Lacewing Flies, and Boomslang Skin. I recognize this. Where do I recognize this from?”

“Nevermind, just help me find them.”

The two scanned the room. Fred climbed a ladder attached to the shelves to get a better view. He picked up a jar with a dull grey mass inside. “Yuck, I’ve got the Boomslang Skin.”

“Great! I just found the powdered Bicorn Horn.” Hermione pulled a large jar off the shelf. She kept scanning.

Fred jumped down, startling Hermione. “And Lacewing!” He exclaimed, holding up a second jar. “Let’s get back to Gryffindor tower. This eyeball over here is looking at me like it knows something.” 

They put the jars in Hermione’s bag, covered themselves in the cloak and headed back. They were up to the second floor when they heard a voice. 

“Nice night for a stroll, my beautiful Mrs. Norris.”

Fred and Hermione looked at each other and whispered in unison, “Filch!”

Fred took Hermione’s hand and pulled her behind a tapestry. Instead of a wall, as Hermione had expected, it opened up to a passageway.

“Hold on,” Fred whispered. He let go of her hand, drew his wand and whispered, “Lumos.”

“Oh that’s excellent! I just read about that in the Standard Book of Spells for our year! It’s quite handy I suppose-”

 “Nox.” Fred pocketed his wand, grabbed Hermione around the waist and clapped a hand over her mouth. Hermione squeaked slightly. They heard Filch’s steps approaching.

Fred’s hand smelled nice. Ron’s hands and everything he touched usually smelled like Scabbers the Rat, and Harry’s hands were always a bit clammy. Hermione could just make out the shadow of Fred's face as he peered through a crack in the tapestry. Hermione noticed the cloak getting really warm again.

“Nice night, it is. Nice night. No children out of bed, no children in the corridors. A nice night.”

They held their breath while Filch passed. Hermione could feel her heart pounding. As Filch's steps grew quieter, they exhaled. Fred let go of Hermione. 

“Lumos,” he whispered. He took her hand, pulling her quickly down the passageway. They wound around parts of the castle that Hermione had never been to.

“How did you know about that secret passageway?” Hermione trailed along behind Fred, holding tight to his hand. 

“George and I have our sources.”

“That doesn't tell me anything!”

“It wasn't supposed to.” 

“Honestly…” 

It took double the amount of time to get back to Gryffindor tower as it did to get down to the dungeons. But finally they were at the portrait hole. Fred threw off the cloak and said, “Wattlebird!”

“Do you have any idea what-” the Fat Lady yawned widely. They were well inside the common room with the portrait hole closed behind them before she finished speaking.

“Whew! Made it!” Fred wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “I'll take the cloak up with me. Where did you- there you are. I better get up to bed, it's pretty late.” He took the cloak from Hermione tucked it under his arm.

“Yeah, uh, ok.”

“G’night, Hermione.” Fred started up the stairs.

“Goodnight.”

Hermione stood there, slightly stunned. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but the adventure seemed a bit anti-climactic. She shrugged, picked up her stack of books, and went upstairs. She had a long day of potion brewing ahead of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been a month! I... Er... Huuuuurg. The next update might be a while as well. 
> 
> *ducks*
> 
> It's just
> 
> *weaves*
> 
> I'm moving
> 
> *hits the deck*
> 
> Soon
> 
> *whimpers*
> 
> -Dand3l1on


	15. Awry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when all doesn't go according to plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I did a bit of digging on HP Wikia. *pushes glasses up nose* Kellah and Fay showed up as the other two Gryffindor girls in the room with Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender. This was news to me. Ok, hope you enjoy!

It was Sunday morning. Hermione’s alarm rang very early. But before she could get it turned off, she was bombarded on all sides by pillows. 

Kellah perched up on her elbows. “What in Godric Gryffindor?”

“Don’t you ever sleep?!” Fay grumbled.

“Hermione! It’s Sunday!” Lavender groaned.

Parvati simply balled herself up beneath her covers, doing a very good impersonation of a rock. 

Hermione flushed. She felt bad about making them angry. She hurried around, silently. She knew that no matter what she said, they would still be cross with her. She threw on some clothes, shouldered her bag, grabbed her Potions kit, and then hustled out into the hall. She heard a pillow hit the other side of the door as it closed behind her. 

“Good morning to you all, too.” Hermione whispered through gritted teeth. They didn’t have a clue what she was doing. She was, in fact, trying to save their sorry hides from whatever was lurking in the Chamber. She knew she couldn’t tell them. Lavender wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to blab a secret. It wouldn’t be long before the whole school knew, and then a teacher would find out about the polyjuice and they’d all get expelled. 

As she descended the stairs into the Common Room, she was stunned to see Ron. He was lying flat across one of the couches, face down in a pillow.

“Hello? Ron?” 

Without lifting his head, Ron murmured, “Morning.” 

“Ron, why are you here?” 

He turned his head to look at her. “Well, you see, Hermione, when a wizard and a witch fall in love-”

“Oh honestly, Ronald! Why are you in the Common Room?”

“I figured you might need help with the Polyjuice today.”

“Really?”

“Is that so surprising?” He sat up, stretching his lanky arms.

“No, I suppose not.” 

“Well, c’mon, best not keep Myrtle waiting.”

They climbed through the portrait hole and headed for the third floor girls bathroom. The castle was quiet except for Ron’s incessant yawning. After Hermione found herself yawning for the third time, she stopped walking. 

“Ronald, would you please stop yawning?”

“I would,” he yawned again, “if I could.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and they continued on. As they approached the bathroom, they checked for signs of Filch. But the corridor was empty. Even still, the air was tense and made your hair stand up. The blood red words glared down at them. 

_ “The Chamber of Secrets has been opened…” _

Ron tugged at Hermione’s arm. “Let’s go, it’s creepy out here.”

Hermione nodded and led the way into the girls bathroom, ignoring the sign that read “Out of Order.” Moaning Myrtle was whimpering softly in the u-bend. One glance between the pair said it was best not to disturb her. Ron closed the door, then stood idly by, hands in his pockets. 

“So, er, where do we start?” He whispered.

“I’m not sure, I’ll need to get out the book.” Hermione put down her Potions kit and opened her book bag. She withdrew the jars of new ingredients as well as  _ Moste Potente Potions.  _ She handed the jars to Ron. 

“Eugh! What is this stuff?” 

“Well it certainly isn’t roses, so I don’t suggest smelling anything.” 

“Alright, alright, no need to be cross. Do you want to add stuff while I read the list or read the list while I add stuff?” 

Hermione had an internal debate. Did she trust Ron more to read things correctly or to measure things correctly? In the end, she decided she would quite simply complain less about the odors. 

“I’ll add ingredients, you read.” She traded him the book for the jars. 

“Ok, looks like the first ingredient is Fluxweed.”

“No, we’ve already done that part. Let me see…” Hermione came around, shoulder to shoulder with Ron. He shifted away slightly, which made her crane her neck over the book. “Ok, start…” she shifted the jars to free up one hand, “Here. We’re on part two.” 

“Boomslang Skin? What is that?”

“It’s the skin from a Boomslang Snake.” Hermione tried really hard not to roll her eyes. “How much does it say to add?”

“3 measures. Hermione, I really hope you know what you’re doing.” 

“Of course I know what I’m doing!” Her outburst was louder than she anticipated. There was a gurgle, followed by a shrill whimper.

“What exactly _are_ you doing?” Whined Myrtle. “It’s making my whole bathroom smell just awful.”

Ron stared at Hermione, wide eyed. She knew what he was thinking, “ _ How would you know if this run-down bathroom smelled more awful?”  _ She shook her head, indicating he shouldn’t say anything. But as usual, he didn’t notice. 

“Sorry, er, Myrtle. Just a bit of Potions extra credit. Not my most keen subject, you know.” Ron followed this up by laughing nervously. 

“Yes, we’re really sorry Myrtle.” 

Myrtle sobbed. “Nobody thinks to ask poor Myrtle. If you need me, I’ll just be in the u-bend, thinking about-”   


“Death.” Ron finished. 

Myrtle looked offended, but floated back into her toilet. Hermione and Ron shared a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. The bathroom door swung open. Their spines went stiff. 

“Hey guys, got my arm back.”

“Hey Harry!” Hermione beamed.

“Looks good, mate,” said Ron. 

\-----

“One- Two- Three!”

Hermione gulped down the repulsive potion. It tasted like the bottom of a shoe. Hermione felt something nasty lurch around inside her. She could hear Harry and Ron clamboring around in their own stalls. She ran through the potion in her head, and she believed she had done everything right. But something felt… not… right. 

A prickling sensation broke out on Hermione’s face. She reached up and felt a thick coat of fur sprouting on her cheeks. Soon, whiskers stretched out from beside her nose. 

The boys were talking now. They sounded exactly like Crabbe and Goyle. Despite her current condition, she felt herself thinking,  _ “Excellent! I  _ did  _ do it right.”  _

“Hermione?” Goyle called out. “Hermione are you ok?” 

“Um, go ahead without me!”

“But Hermione-”

“You’re wasting time! You only have an hour!” 

The boys lumbered out of the bathroom. The moment the door shut, Hermione burst out of the stall and ran toward the mirror. 

“Oh no, oh shit! Wait, I don’t say that. Oh who cares! SHIT!” 

\-----

Madame Pomfrey, bustled over, bringing another round of potions for Hermione to take. She sighed. 

“Oh my Dear, it’ll get better. It seems your whiskers are already shorter, just in the last day. You’ll be on the mend in no time.”

Hermione forced a weak smile, uncertain if it was even visible underneath the layer of black fur she now sported. 

“It seems you have a visitor, Ms. Granger. It’s Mr. Weasley, should I send him over?”

Her thoughts were clouded from one of the potions, but she figured a chat with Ron couldn’t hurt anything. Maybe he and Harry had more information about the heir of Slytherin. 

“Er, yes, please. Thank you, Madame Pomfrey.”

The Matron disappeared behind the curtain drawn around the hospital bed. Hermione twiddled the corner of the bedsheet in her hand. 

“I don’t believe it.”

Hermione’s heart skipped at the sound of the voice. She looked up. 

“Fred! What are you doing here?” 

“Picking daisies, and yourself?” He chuckled, then cocked his head. “How did you manage- What exactly were you trying to do?” 

Hermione buried her face in her hands.  _ “I will not cry in front of him. Don’t. Cry.”  _ She tried to breathe but the air hitched in her throat. 

Fred sat down on the bed next to her, and put his arm around her shoulders. “Hey now, it’s ok. You’re going to be ok. You really are! Madame Pomfrey is the best. She’s fixed me up loads of times.” 

“I’m just so  _ embarrassed _ .”

“Now you’re speaking my language! Listen ‘Mione, I’ve had a few failed attempts in my day. I’ve had my share of embarrassing moments and explosions. I walked around for a month my first year waiting for my left eyebrow to grow back. I’m convinced George was hexing it back off again while I slept...”

Hermione slumped forward. “No offense, but this really isn’t helping.”

Fred withdrew his arm from her shoulders, but nudged her with his elbow. “Ah, c’mon, cheer up. I hate to see you beat yourself up over this. Mistakes happen, move on. Next!”

Somewhere inside her, a laugh formed and bubbled up. She smiled back at him, shaking her head. 

“Here,” he handed her a card. “It's nothing special, just a little note. I'll see you around, ‘Mione.” 

“See you.”

He stood up and left, ducking around the curtain. She opened the card. 

 

“ _ Hermione, _

_ Polyjuice! I knew I remembered those ingredients! (I may have squeezed additional information out of Harry and Ron.) _

_ But you know what, I think it's pretty cool that you tried something. Not many kids are brave enough to risk it. And no one seems to be doing anything about Slytherin's monster but you. _

_ Chin up, feel better soon.  _

_ Fred” _

  
Just as she finished reading, she heard Madame Pomfrey's footsteps approaching. Hermione cast a concealment charm to make it look like a “get well” card from Lockhart, and then tucked it under her pillow. 


	16. Night Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still struggling to fit in, Hermione gives her dorm mates a gift.

After a few weeks spent in the hospital wing, Hermione was back in classes, whisker and fur free. The tail had taken the longest to go away. Hermione wasn't about to tell anyone that though. As Transfiguration class ended and the other students exited into the hall, Hermione stood warily near the front of the room. Minerva McGonagall was not a cruel teacher by any means, and Hermione had deep respect for her. However, she feared being a nuisance to someone so proper and intelligent. Hermione’s anxiety mounted as McGonagall continued writing, the quill scratching the paper with conviction. Finally, the Professor looked up.

“Yes, Ms. Granger?”

“Professor McGonagall, may I borrow a moment of your time?”

Hermione glanced behind her, and waited a moment while the last students filed out. Harry and Ron had waited for her at the door, but she waved them on. They looked at each other, shrugged, and walked away.

"Of course. But please be expedient, I have another class coming in on the hour."

“Professor, I want to work on a spell in my own time, but it could be potentially dangerous. It involves fire-”

“Ms. Granger, forgive me the interruption, but exactly what type of fire?”

“Just small ones! I promise! I'm,” she sighed and fidgeted, “I want to modify the bluebell flame charm-”

“Ms. Granger, perhaps you should speak with Professor Flitwick, as that is his area of study.”

“I-I know,” Hermione stammered. “I suppose I'm just a bit embarrassed to consult another head of house.”

Professor McGonagall's stern visage softened. “Alright then, please, continue.”

“Well, you see, all of us second second year girls are a bit scared at night, what with the wild theories of Slytherin's monster. I want to modify the bluebell charm to be a sort of night light, one that I can set up by each of our beds. It doesn't need fuel and it won't go out unless they perform the counter charm. I thought this might be a way- erm, a way to…” she dropped off.

“Impress them?” McGonagall smiled knowingly.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I'm not sure why, but I just don't seem to be the same as them, if that makes sense. I'm not into the same things. I know everyone is different. I guess I assumed that being in the same house would mean we would all get along really well, more like sisters.”

“Oh, my dear, you're not the first young girl to think so, either. You know, in all my years as Head of House for Gryffindor, I've only had one complaint from a boy about one of his roommates. I believe that there would be more, but I usually hear about the fights they have first. Once they get the fight out of their system, they seem to get over their qualms with each other. Young ladies, however,” McGonagall closed her eyes and shook her head slowly, “Young ladies will peck at each other like angry hens until one of them breaks down and comes to me, undoubtedly crying, asking for help. Letters have to be sent home, arrangements for different quarters are made, and though it is rare, I have had girls transfer out of Hogwarts due to a rift between roommates. We women have an uncanny ability for hurting each other.”

The words stung in Hermione's chest. She worried there was no hope for her getting along with the other second year girls. She continued staring at the floor, afraid of blinking while the tears welled in her eyes.

“Now as for the bluebell charm, I'm glad you asked ahead of time. The last thing we need is a lightly toasted common room, wouldn't you say?” McGonagall smiled at Hermione, raising one eyebrow. This made Hermione smile and her tears diminish.

“There is an abandoned classroom in the dungeons. It is all stone, so you would be hard pressed to catch anything on fire. I trust you to know your limitations, Ms. Granger.”

“Yes!” Hermione beamed in excitement.

“Then I suggest you studying the following charms,” Professor McGonagall spoke as she drew her quill and fresh parchment. “ _Glacignia_ , to keep from burning down Gryffindor Tower. _Colovaria_ , should each girl want their flame a different color. _Intrusus nuntiare_ , to signal you, should something unwanted enter your dormitory.”

She handed the list to Hermione.

“Ms. Granger, I also suggest a form of containment.”

“Of course. Thank you, Professor McGonagall.”

“You're quite welcome. I hope this works well for you. I shall like to see your final product, simply for my own curiosity.”

“Absolutely. Well, I’d better be off to Potions. Thanks again, Professor.” Hermione scurried out of the classroom, clutching the list of charms tightly.

 

Late that night, the lights were dimming in Gryffindor tower. The second year girls were all in their room, busy getting ready for bed.

Hermione cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry about the other morning, when my alarm went off on a Sunday.”

“Uf oa kay,” Lavender mumbled thickly through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“What?”

Lavender turned to the sink and discreetly spat out the foam.

“I said it’s ok,” replied Lavender.

Parvati smiled and nodded. “Yeah, We felt bad we were so grouchy with you. I guess none of us are morning people. Well, except you.”

Hermione blushed.

Kellah grinned and gave Hermione’s arm a playful shove. “Don’t worry, one of these days we’ll get you to sleep through a whole day of classes, just to prove you can do it and live to tell the tale.”

A snore of assent came from Fay’s bed. The four girls still awake tried very hard not to burst into laughter.

“I have something for you. All of you.”

Hermione dug in her trunk and pulled out a small jar. It had a dancing blue flame inside. But she pulled out four more, each a different color, setting them in a row on her nightstand. Lavender and Parvati sighed in awe.

“They're nightlights. It’s a bit spooky, all this stuff about Slytherin. So I’ve charmed them to go red if something unwanted comes in our room. Mine is blue. Kellah, yours is gold. Parvati, yours is the orange one. Fay’s is green. And Lavender, yours is-”

“Pink! It’s fantastic!”

“Hermione, these are brilliant,” said Kellah.

“They really are!” Added Parvati.

They marveled at their gifts. Hermione walked over and set Fay’s light on her nightstand. They heard another loud snore.

Parvati tossed a pillow across the room which landed squarely on the sleeping girl. “Fay! You’re snoring again! Drink some water and roll over.”

Fay startled awake and looked around, extremely confused. “Oo! What’s this green thing? It’s pretty!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- There are three charms listed by McGonagall. Colovaria is the color changing charm. But I "named" the Fire Freezing charm Glacignia; glacies is latin for ice, and ignis is latin for fire. I just kinda smooshed the latin a bit. The Fire freezing charm was mentioned in reference to "witch burnings." It said they would cast a fire freezing charm while being burned at the stake and then comfortably make a spectacle of fake screams. Intrusus Nuntiare is "Intruder Report," I assigned this to the intruder charm, which is related to the caterwauling charm. 
> 
> I usually cross reference HP Wikia on things. And I just use google for the Latin. Because I can't ask Hermione. *sigh*


	17. First I was afraid, I was Petrified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione figures it out! 
> 
> AN- I mean, I couldn't help that title. The picture>>> http://i.imgur.com/eNlbvJk.jpg

“Where is she going?” asked Harry.

“Where else? The library,” replied Ron.

Hermione didn't truly hear them as she walked away. Something had clicked into place and she had to investigate. Her thoughts reeled as she made her way through the hallways. She sped past portraits. They howled warnings, recommended cover, and told her to slow down. But she didn’t register any of it. Her mind was elsewhere.

The water. There had always been water around the victims that were petrified. Whatever the monster was, it was moving through the pipes. At first, she had thought the monster simply needed to be small enough to fit in the pipe. But this was Slytherin. Slytherin's _monster_.

“It's a dirty great snake, I just know it.” Hermione said aloud.

“What is?” asked a voice behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw prefect, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I thought I was alone.” Hermione continued to hurry forward.

“What are you doing alone, anyway? It isn't safe! And what is this about a snake?” Penelope caught up with Hermione. “You’re Hermione! I’ve heard about you from Percy. You and Harry are always getting Ron into trouble!”

“ME?! Oh honestly! _They’re_ the ones always dragging _me_ into trouble!” She was becoming increasingly flustered, and hastened her pace up to the Library doors.

“And what exactly do you call _this_?” Penelope gestured wildly around Hermione. “I don’t see them anywhere around, ‘dragging’ you, as you say…”

“I call this...” Hermione paused as she opened the door to the Library. She dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “I call this _self preservation_.”

“And why’s that?” Penelope was very snippy. Hermione felt a strong dislike growing within her. If she ever became - scratch that - _when_ she became a prefect, she would be much kinder to younger students.

“Because I’m muggle born. It doesn’t seem like anyone else is stepping up to face Slytherin’s monster and I refuse to sit idly by. If we only had a decent Defense teacher this year!” Hermione wound her way to the section of the library she needed. “Listen, this has been a lovely chat, but if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

“Well, at least let me help. I _am_ a prefect.”

“Alright....” Hermione ducked low and grabbed a heavy book off the shelf. “Hold this.”

Penelope took the book, stumbling slightly at it’s weight.

“And this-” Hermione set another book in the prefects arms. She scanned the shelf one last time.

“Oo! And we can’t risk missing something in THIS!” THUD. Penelope was arching slightly to keep her balance. Hermione trotted off towards the nearest table. “Follow me. We’ve got a lot of reading to do.”

Penelope all but dropped the books on the table. It seemed Hermione was not the only one whose temper was waning.

“Please start reading on the magical snakes in this book,” Hermione handed the top book over, “and I’ll look here,” she said, indicating the next in the stack.

“This book is ‘ _101 uses for flobberworms_.’ Really? You think a flobberworm is the beast of Slytherin?”

“Go on to the next book then, if you’re so sure.” Hermione had only grabbed that book because it was heavy. But she wasn’t about to reveal that.

The two sat at the table for a few minutes, flipping rapidly through the books. Penelope looked up from _Most Macabre Monstrosities_.

“Listen to this! It’s about the Runespoor. ‘... _has long been associated with Dark Wizards_ , er, then it mentions _Parselmouths_ , blah blah. What do you think?”

“Let me see.” Hermione took the open book from Penelope and continued reading. “... _three_ heads, dadada, _one head criticizes_ …? What? Ok. ... _bites the other two heads off_ … _doesn’t have a long life expectancy_.” Hermione handed the book back and sighed. “Sorry. It has to be really old.”

“Right! I can’t believe I missed that.” Penelope blushed.

Hermione continued reading until, “AHA! I think I have it! It’s a Basilisk! Look!” She pointed at the page she had been reading. “ _Herpo the Foul, a very dark wizard_ , yes, _experimented with a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad_ , goodness that sounds like something Hagrid would do!  _Basilisk_ , ok,  _Parseltongue_ , ok we’re definitely on the right track…”

“ _900 years_! See there!” Penelope pointed towards the end of the section on Herpo the Foul.

Hermione cheered “It fits! What does your book say about them?”

Penelope flipped pages and scanned quickly. “‘ _King of Serpents… may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, deadly and venomous fangs,_ ’ Ooo here it is, listen to this- ‘ _murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death_.”

Hermione slumped. “Instant death? Not petrification?”

“No, it doesn’t mention petrification.”

“Ok, well, we know whatever it is, it’s exceptionally old. So perhaps it’s eyes aren’t as good as they used to be? Maybe it has cataracts? No that’s silly…” Hermione closed her eyes and thought hard. She was startled when Penelope slammed her hand down on the table.

“It’s not though. Think about it. Lenses! It’s seeing through things. Colin was found with his Camera!”

“Oh! Of course! Brilliant! So Justin saw the Basilisk  _through_  Nearly Headless Nick, who was already dead so he can’t die again…”

“And Mrs. Norris?”

They both paused. A tense moment passed. They wanted to be right. They needed to have an answer. Hermione imagined the scene from the first night the Chamber opened.

“The water! She was lapping up the water and saw the reflection!”

“We solved it!” Penelope's face lit up with enthusiasm.

“Well, sort of.” Hermione felt her pragmatism dampen the mood. “We have to tell Dumbledore. We need to go now.”

“Ok. Um… wait!” Penelope reached into her pocket and withdrew a compact mirror. “We’ll use this. It’ll take a long time, but it’s safest.”

“Good thinking. At least we know what we’re up against now!”

“Hermione, what happens if…” Penelope shuffled a bit. “What happens if we get petrified? How will they know?”

“We could take the book.”

“But it might fall open and drop any bookmarks. Plus, no one would put it past us to have a book on hand.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Hermione screwed up her face and sighed deeply. She held up the singular page regarding the Basilisk. She poised her hands, then looked at Penelope, who nodded in understanding. “One- two- three-”

Penelope let out an excessive cough, while Hermione swiftly ripped the page out of the book. She crumpled it tight in her hand.

“Well, if I do get petrified, at least I won't have to worry about late fees on an overdue book. Come on, let’s go to Dumbledore.”

The girls left the Library, doing an odd backwards walk while looking at the compact mirror. They managed their way down one hallway, Penelope holding the mirror, Hermione keeping her fist tightly clenched around the crumpled up page.

It happened very fast. Hermione heard a faint hiss. They stopped walking, stared at the mirror. They saw it. First the flickering tongue, then the slitted nose, and last, the shining yellow eyes.

Everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> This really will be the last update for a little while. I'm moving and I can't pretend any longer that I don't have to pack boxes. 
> 
> Thank you for your Kudos, Comments, and Bookmarks! It all means so much to me!
> 
> -Dand3l1on


	18. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's parents discuss the future. Is Hogwarts good for her after all?

“Petrified?! As in, organic matter turned to stone?” Mr. Granger stared in horror. He turned to his wife, who was speechless at the news.

“I'm afraid so,” replied Professor McGonagall. She removed her spectacles and set them on the desk between her and the couple. She pressed her fingertips into her temples to soothe the pounding headache.

“Professor, I don't understand, why wasn't she with an adult? You said you've known about this danger for most of the year!”

McGonagall replaced her glasses and eyed the couple indignantly. “We _have_ made arrangements for students to be with a professor at all times. However, Hermione was found near the library when she was scheduled to be in a Charms lesson. I believe she was acting on behalf of the greater good, much like the incident with the Philosopher's Stone last year. It would seem that your daughter has a propensity for acting above the law.”

Mrs. Granger sighed and held her face in her hands. Mr. Granger placed a comforting hand on her back as he spoke.

“I,” he stammered, “I do apologize. We are very familiar with that aspect of her character.”

Mrs. Granger spoke, her voice muffled by her hands. “She gets it from you." 

McGonagall ignored the woman's ire for her husband.

“As I stated before, our Head Matron is taking excellent care of the petrified students. Also, our Herbology professor is tending to the plants that will become the antidote when they reach maturation. I assure you, the best place for your daughter at this moment is in our hospital wing. She will receive expedient care from the most knowledgeable nurse I've ever known.” 

“May we see her?” asked Mrs. Granger.

“Yes, of course, but I'm afraid it will be quite unsettling. She is unresponsive, as are the others.” McGonagall stood and walked around the desk. “I will take you to the hospital wing, but I will have to take my leave once we're there as I have a class on the hour.”

The couple nodded and stood. McGonagall opened the door and they followed her out.

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey hustled between beds. She paused when she saw the trio approaching.

“You must be the Granger's. I've been expecting your visit. You received our owl then?”

“Yes, we came straight away,” replied Mrs.Granger.

“Poppy, I'm afraid I must be leaving now.”

 “Thank you, Minerva.”

Professor McGonagall shook hands with both of the Granger's before exiting. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger, excluding these dreadful circumstances, it was a pleasure seeing you.”

“You as well, Professor,” said Mr. Granger.

 “Hermione is right this way. Please follow me.” Madame Pomfrey led them to a curtained off section of the wing. Seven beds were arranged behind the curtain, two of which held intriguing occupants.

 “Excuse me, Madam Pomfrey, but is that a cat, and, a, er, ghost?”

 “Yes, the cat belongs to our groundskeeper, Argus Filch. I've had many children coming in, asking me to leave her petrified. I'm afraid Mr. Filch is not well liked by the students. The ghost is a more troublesome case. That's Sir Nicolas, one of the Gryffindor ghosts. I believe an aerosol potion will revive him to his usual, undead self. However, if that doesn't work, I'm at a loss for how to help him. And he is always so kind to the first years. Such a shame.” Madam Pomfrey slowly shook her head. “Here is Hermione, I’ll give you some privacy.”

 Mrs. Granger gasped and let out a sob. She rushed over and took hold of Hermione's hand.  “I wasn't expecting her eyes to be open! I assumed she'd appear like she was sleeping!”

 “I do apologize. I have tried to close them, but her petrification is advanced. We just have to wait for the Mandrakes to mature. They are nearly there. Pomona told me just the other day that their acne is clearing up. I'll be over at my station if you need anything.” Madam Pomfrey walked away.

 “ _Acne_?” Mrs. Granger mouthed.

 Mr. Granger shrugged. They pulled up chairs and sat on either side of their daughter. They gazed at Hermione, not knowing what to do. Mrs. Granger held Hermione's tightly locked hand and began playing with her hair.

 Mr. Granger broke the silence. “She's not coming back to this damn school next year.”

 “But-”

 “No. She is not coming back. We wouldn't put up with this nonsense in a regular school.”

 “Ssh! Don't say that so loud.”

 “What, ‘ _nonsense’_?”

 Mrs. Granger leaned over Hermione to whisper. “No, _regular._ To witches and wizards, _this_ school is regular. They would call that type a _muggle_ school.”

 "Fine, Hermione is going to _Muggle_ school next year. End of discussion.”

 “P-please don't take Hermione out of Hogwarts.” A small voice whispered. They hadn't noticed the boy approaching. He looked as though he was about to cry.

 “Hello? What's your name?” Mrs. Granger gave him a warm smile.

 “I'm Neville, Neville Longbottom.”

 “It's nice to meet you Neville, I'm Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother. This is Mr. Granger, her father.”

 Mr. Granger smiled. “Hello, Neville. Hermione has told us about you. She says you're very kind. She said you stood up to her, Harry, and Ron when they broke the rules last year. I’d like to thank you.”

 “I-I just didn't want them getting into trouble. I was going to fight them, but Hermione said ‘Petrificus Totalus’ before I knew what was happening.”

 “It would seem she's getting her just reward now.” Mr. Granger winked at Neville.

 “But I wish she wasn’t! I really want her to get better. Hermione’s always been nice to me, from the first day on the train.”

 “Neville, it's ok, he was only joking.” said Mrs. Granger.

 “Oh, right,” Neville sighed in relief and gave a half smile.

 “Mr. Longbottom! If you are well enough to be chatting, then you're well enough to be doing your schoolwork.” Madam Pomfrey huffed at him from across the wing.

 Neville stiffened, eyes wide. He flung a card at Mrs. Granger and scurried out of the wing.

 Mrs. Granger giggled under her breath. She whispered, “How adorable!”

 “He's an awkward little fellow, isn't he?” Mr. Granger whispered back.

“Oh I think he's just fine. A little nervous is all.” She eyed the card she was holding. “Am I terrible if I read it?”

 “Yes.”

 “Alright. Then just don't tell her when she wakes up.”

 “And where exactly do you think she gets her stubbornness from?” He eyed her harshly.

 “Quiet, I'm reading.”

 Mr. Granger smiled and shook his head in defeat.

 As she read, Mrs. Granger smiled. But her eyes watered, and soon she held a hand over her heart.

 “Jean, are you alright?”

 “Oh,” she sniffed and wiped a tear away. “I am, but you should read this. It's quite sweet.”

 Mr. Granger took the card. It was slightly generic, with a picture of flowers on the front. It looked like something an old woman had sitting in a dusty shoe box, awaiting a recipient.  Taped to the inside of the card was a short daisy chain made out of gum wrappers. The note read:

  _Dear Hermione,_

  _I_ _was really sad when I heard that you were petrified. Classes have been more difficult without you around. You're always so helpful, and you always know all the answers the teachers ask._

  _I've been working with Professor Sprout every day to help the Mandrakes along. They're nearly there!_

  _I don't know if you remember this, but the first day back this year I was really scared about Snape. You helped me feel better. I just wanted to say thanks._

  _You said you like to make daisy chains with your dad. I had to look them up, but I think I figured out how to make one. It's small, but I wanted you to have it. It's something to remind you of home, so you don't have to be scared._

  _Hang in there, Hermione._

  _Neville_

 Mr. Granger wore a very stern expression. He cleared his throat twice before handing the card back. He frowned, nodded, and cleared his throat again. Mrs. Granger nodded in response, knowing very well that he was holding up his brave face. She placed the card on Hermione's bedside table, next to a smattering of other cards.

 

The ice was broken, so she picked up another card. It was pink with white flowers that cycled between blooms and buds. The writing inside was large, filling the whole page. It read:

  _Dear Hermione,_

  _We miss you!_

  _Love,_

  _Your bunk mates_

 The names of four girls were written in large, loopy handwriting. Each girl had written as though they were a movie star signing an autograph.

 

Next was a sky blue card. It had puffy clouds that lazily drifted from one edge to the other.

  _Hermione,_

  _I'm so sorry you got petrified! I really hope the mandrakes are ready soon! I miss you so much. Something is amok, and I wish I could talk to you to sort it out. Get better soon!_

  _Ginny_

 

 A pale yellow card caught Mrs. Granger eye.

  _Hermione_

  _Help! Ron and I are lost without you! I wish I had known. I'm kicking myself for letting you go to the library that day. I know I didn't stand a chance at keeping you from it, you would've hexed me into next term. But I wish I could rewind, knowing what happened, and change it. I'm so sorry. I hope that being petrified feels like sleeping. Ron and I will keep working on it. Hagrid said something about “follow the spiders.” You can guess that Ron's not excited about that. Please un-petrify when the mandrakes are ready!_

  _Harry_

 

The next card made Mrs. Granger laugh. She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. On the front of the card was a picture of Stonehenge. However, someone had drawn a word bubble above one of the large stones, which made the stone say, “Welcome to our club!” The inside read:

  _Hermione,_

  _I've told you and I've told you, you read too much. Now you've gone and turned to stone, all because you couldn't avoid the library._

  _Please get better. Even if Harry and I figure this out, you could've had it solved by now._

  _Ron_

 

Last was a card with a picture of a sleeping princess on it. She was snoring, and the flowers she held to her chest bent back and forth with the force of her breath. This also made Mrs. Granger smile.

  _Hermione,_

  _Alicia told me about a muggle fairy-tale where there's a sleeping princess and an evil witch and a cool dragon. And something about pricking her finger. I hope all that sounds familiar, it didn't make a lick of sense to me._

  _You have to stop getting yourself stuck up in this hospital wing. Aren't you bored yet? Just kidding, you're not a board, you're a stone! Ok, ok, those are terrible jokes._

  _Please get better._

  _Fred_

 Mrs. Granger replaced the cards on the bedside table. Her heart sank.

 “We simply can't take her out of Hogwarts. Look at these cards, she has friends here! Do you remember her having good friends before? If we take her out and drop her into a new school, she'll never forgive us.”

 Mr. Granger gave a heavy sigh.

 “And who's to say something awful wouldn't happen if she were home? And now she knows enough magic that it'll be big trouble if someone upsets her. If we thought it was difficult before, think about how bad it would be now that she _knows_ she's different.”

 “Alright, alright,” Mr. Granger held up his hands. “You've made your point. She can continue on here.”

 “Thank you.” She sighed. “Should we get going?”

 “Probably so. Doesn't seem there's anything we can do here.”

 Mrs. Granger reached up and gently ran her fingers through Hermione's curls. She leant over and kissed her forehead.

 “I love you, sweetheart.”

 Mr. Granger gave her forehead a kiss as well.

 “I love you, little one. It sounds like we'll see you very soon. We can't wait.”

As they left the hospital wing, Mrs. Granger let out a small sob. Mr. Granger put his arm around her and led her through the doors.


	19. Unpetrified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wakes up!

Hermione walked through the restaurant, looking for her parents. She couldn't find their table. She'd gotten up to find a bathroom, but now she couldn't find the bathroom or their table. The voices in the restaurant grew louder. She passed a table where the Weasley's were sitting, waving at her. They were calling her over, but instead of hearing Mrs. Weasley's voice, she heard Snape's voice calling out her name.

“Ms. Granger, can you hear me?”

“I think she's coming round, Severus. Please start the potion for Ms. Clearwater.” It was Madam Pomfrey.

She looked around the restaurant, and as she did, it started to fade away.

“Ms. Granger?” Madam Pomfrey was speaking in calm tones.

Hermione sat bolt upright.

“The Basilisk! Slytherin's monster is a Basilisk and it's been getting around the school through the pipes!”

“Yes dear, we are all safe. Don't worry.” Madam Pomfrey began bending Hermione's joints, checking her range of motion. Hermione withdrew her arm.

“No! You don't understand. We have to stop it before it petrifies someone else!”

“I beg your pardon, but I do understand. I was just tending to Ms. Weasley who informed me that Mr. Potter has in fact killed the Basilisk.”

“Ginny's here? Harry- what!?”

Madam Pomfrey had moved to Penelope's bed. She pointed across the wing. “She's just over there.”

Hermione hopped off the bed and ran over to Ginny. The small redhead was flanked by Mr.and Mrs. Weasley. Ginny looked very tired and pale, but beamed as her friend bounded over to her.

Hermione jumped up onto the bed with Ginny, and hugged her tight.

“Tell me everything that's happened! Who figured it out?”

Ginny suddenly broke out into tears, sobbing into the blanket. Hermione looked up at Mrs. Weasley, stunned and afraid.

Mrs. Weasley placed a comforting hand on both girls. “It's alright, dear. You couldn't have known. Ginny has been through quite the ordeal this year, I'm afraid she had a run in with you-know-who. She's already had to discuss it twice, once with Harry, and once with Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. I think it's best if you talk to Harry. The whole school is having a late night celebration in the great hall. Would you like to join them?”

“I, I would. But, Ginny, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?”

Ginny sniffed and scrubbed her face with a tissue Mr. Weasley had handed her.

“I think so. You should go, I bet you're hungry after being petrified.”

“You're sure?”

Ginny nodded and gave a weak smile. “Yeah, I'm ok. Go on! Go see everybody. Harry's the one that found the page in your hand, I think he's dying to tell you all about it.”

Hermione gave Ginny another tight hug, then jumped down off the bed.

“Ms. Granger, if you are leaving, please take your cards.” Madam Pomfrey was waving her back over.

“I have cards?”

“Yes, here you are dear.”

She took the small stack, turned and waved to Ginny as she left the hospital wing.

She stopped on a staircase to sit and read her cards. They all made her smile. She found herself reading Fred's card twice, and noticed a flutter around her gall bladder. She assumed the fluttering was just her organs getting back into gear after being petrified.

Now her mind was burning with questions. She made her way to the great hall, where the entire student body was enjoying a lively feast.

She spotted Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table. They were seated near Neville, the twins, and Lee. George spotted her first. Pointing in her direction, he stood up and cheered. The other Gryffindors followed suit, and applause broke out. Cheers, hollers, whistles, and high fives followed Hermione as she made her way toward her friends. Harry and Ron stood up to greet her.

“You figured it out!” Hermione gave Harry a big hug. Ron held out his hand awkwardly, which she shook with a small amount of confusion. They all sat down at the table. Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Fred were seated across from Neville, Lee, and George. As Hermione tucked in to some Shepherd's Pie, Fred put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze. She hoped no one noticed her blushing.

“Good to see you, Granger!”

“It's good to see all of you! I just came from the hospital wing. Ginny was there and she's really upset! You all need to tell me what happened!”

Harry began the long story. He told Hermione about the diary, and how Ginny had been the one opening the chamber. Hermione told them about getting petrified, and how Penelope had helped her. Then Ron described the spider's den, where they met Hagrid's giant spider, Aragog.

“It was the worst place I've ever been.” Ron finished with a shudder.

Fred and George suppressed their laughter.

“And I suppose you two wouldn't have been scared in there?”

“We didn't say that.” They replied in unison, both sniggering under their breath.

Harry continued on, telling Hermione about the Chamber, the Basilisk, Fawkes, the Sorting Hat, and The Sword of Gryffindor. He then explained about Tom Riddle being Lord Voldemort.

“So he was taking over Ginny? No wonder she looked so pale. How dreadful! And she was in the Chamber with him?”

“Yes. It was awful. When I found her, she was white as a sheet and cold as stone. I thought she was dead at first. But I found a pulse. I don't think I've ever been happier.”

Hermione saw Fred and George give each other a knowing glance. She looked at George, who winked at her. Fred leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Bet you a Galleon they get married.”

Hermione smiled at Fred, and nodded in agreement.

  



	20. ∃MIT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of Term

“You wanted to see me Professor?” Hermione poked her head into McGonagall’s office. 

“Yes, please, come in and have a seat Ms. Granger. Close the door behind you.” McGonagall was facing away, looking out over the grounds. The spring sky was bright blue, and fresh air came in through the open windows. Hermione could hear the wind combing through the evergreens of the forest and could see the yellow clouds of pollen taking flight on the breeze.

Hermione suddenly felt very tense. She started to speak quietly. “Professor-”

“Ms. Granger, first and foremost I must say congratulations, once again. Despite being in the hospital wing for a total of six weeks throughout this school year, you have managed top marks in your year.” Even through the accolade, Hermione could hear disappointment in McGonagall’s voice.

“Oh. Um, thank you, Professor.”

“However.” McGonagall turned to face Hermione.

There it was. Disappointment and frustration. McGonagall took a deep breath and sighed. 

“However, it has come to my attention that you find it difficult to apply the rules to yourself in certain situations.”

“But, I was-”

“I understand you felt it necessary to help with the investigations, but some of your actions could be heavily punished-

“Please, Professor, don’t-!” 

“I request you do not interrupt me, Ms. Granger.” 

Hermione nodded in compliance.

“Some of your actions  _ could _ be heavily punished,  _ if  _ we believed they had malice behind them. After much discussion and debate between myself and the other staff members, we believe you were acting in good nature, despite those actions being outside the rules.” 

Hermione felt very confused. Her head was spinning. All she could think about was how badly she didn’t want to be expelled.

“Since you have taken it upon yourself to challenge the rules, I have decided to challenge you right back.”

“Professor, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain. This is the list of classes you signed up to take, beginning next term. You have selected every class. I must first clarify, is that an error on your part? Or perhaps a prank from Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?”

“No, I really do want to take them all. I couldn’t decide which ones sounded the best, because they all sound so interesting.” 

“Excellent. Do you understand that there are too many classes on this list, that it is an impossible time table?” 

“Yes.” Hermione frowned.

McGonagall opened her desk drawer and withdrew a necklace with a pendant. She had a mischievous smile brewing in her eyes.

“This, Ms. Granger is a time-turner. Next term, you will be making the impossible, possible.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying it! 
> 
> I really phoned it in on chapter 9 when I wrote it, and in my recent surge of output, I updated the very end of that chapter. It's nothing plot critical, just a few paragraphs of drabble between the golden trio. posted April 1, 2016 (Happy birthday Fred and George!)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Thanks for your comments and kudos!


End file.
